


Eight Crazy Nights

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [31]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s), Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Put on your yarmulke, here comes Hanukkah... instead of one day of presents, we have eight crazy nights."<br/>Also, Chicago at last!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

Hanukkah is a minor holiday, but it’s still one of Rachel’s favorites. Not just for the presents, but because it’s so _pretty_. The candlelight, the blue and white decorations, the silver menorah, all of it near the darkest day of the year–something about it seems poetic to Rachel. One day, she’s going to write a proper Hanukkah song, something stirring and haunting than conveys the power of the original miracle and the wonder of celebrating it as an American Jew.

Rachel’s grateful for the timing of Hanukkah this year, that the first night is just after school is out for winter holidays, and that all of Hanukkah will be during those holidays. She’s also excited that Finn will be coming to celebrate Hanukkah with them at least a few of the nights. Last year, they broke up just before Hanukkah began, and even then, she had been feeling odd about inviting him. Not this year!

Actually, back in October, she’d considered inviting Kurt as well, because next year, Hanukkah would be during her first semester in New York, and maybe Kurt would celebrate with her. But then Rachel had found out about Kurt and Noah, and she still giggles when she thinks of the three of them in New York. Oh, they’ll all be at different schools, yes, but a little part of her relaxes to know that she can take part of Lima with her.

Because she can’t take Finn, no matter how much she loves him.

She’s made her choice, and even though it will break her heart to leave Finn this summer, he’s made his choice, too, hasn’t he? Rachel hopes Wisconsin will offer him a good scholarship, because Finn sounds happy when he talks about Wisconsin and everything there.

For now, though, she’s just going to enjoy showing Finn how wonderful Hanukkah is.

 

Burt watches his family, each of them sitting in a pile of colorful paper, and his heart feels full of happiness and sadness in equal parts. When he lost Maggie, he thought he’d lost this forever, too, this feeling of unbridled holiday joy. Christmases with just him and Kurt were always more sedate. Still nice, still a time for happiness, but always slightly tinged with the bitterness of it being two instead of three.

Now it’s four of them, and one of those four is marching around the room like some kinda of supersized leggy eight-year-old, wearing a scarf, hat, a pair of cordless headphones, and some pin with breakfast foods that apparently triggers Finn’s need to randomly hug people, particularly Kurt. Kurt, to his credit, tolerates the hugs and even returns a few of them, as well as accepting the second cup of coffee and plate full of Christmas cookies that an overly-excited Finn insists is necessary for a perfect Christmas experience.

Burt wraps his arm around Carole, who leans into him a little. He nudges the box containing her special Christmas present with his toe, and Carole laughs and swats him with an “oh, Burt!” And yeah, maybe that wasn’t the most family-friendly present, but it was worth it for the look on her face.

There’s the bittersweetness of this being the boys’ last Christmas with both of them at home. Burt has a secret fear that Finn’s going to end up back with them in four years, not because he’s not capable of taking care of himself, but because the kid just seems like he’s not going to handle the transition well. It’s one of those funny ways in which Finn and Burt are alike; they’re both homebodies, unlike Kurt who can’t wait to head to New York, and Carole, who keeps telling him that the best part of the boys being gone is that they can travel more.

Christmas has been different the past two years, and it’ll be different every year from here on out, but Burt doesn’t mind, not really. He’s got a good family to spend it with.


	2. Only a Minor Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn's first Hanukkah celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of our Eight Crazy Nights holiday special series. We are very not Jewish, and while we did our best to be accurate, we're still sorta of the goyest gentiles to ever nance down the pike. Please read with a forgiving heart.
> 
> ETA: Special thanks to our anon commenter who provided the correct pronunciation for the prayers. <3

Finn nervously shifts the large package from hand to hand, worrying that the plain gold and silver striped wrapping paper isn’t Hanukkah-ish enough, and that he’s already managed to do something to insult Rachel’s holiday and probably her entire Jewish heritage, and she hasn’t even opened the door yet.

He hears a clatter of footsteps inside and the door opens, Rachel standing in the doorway, dramatically back-lit, with warmth and the smell of something delicious wafting around her like some kind of Jewish angel wings. Her sweater is deep blue, over a collared white shirt, and her eyes are bright.

“Finn!” Rachel says, slightly breathless, like she ran to be the one who answered the door. Finn sees Mr. Hiram and Mr. Leroy hovering right behind her, and realizes that’s probably exactly what she did. “I’m so glad you’re here! Welcome to your very first Hanukkah celebration.”

She ushers Finn through the doorway, pushing him between her dads, but before Finn can even respond to her greeting, let alone Hiram or Leroy’s, she shoves something into Finn’s hand. He looks down as the red fabric circle in his hand, not sure what to make of it.

“It’s a yarmulke,” Rachel explains. “I had it ordered just for you. Red and black, see? McKinley colors. And look, there’s your name embroidered on the back.” Finn turns the yarmulke–that’s the little Jewish hat, right? He really hopes that’s the little Jewish hat, because where else is it gonna fit?–over in his hands. It does, in fact, have “Finn” embroidered in shiny red thread against the red fabric of the hat.

“Uh, that’s really nice of you Rachel, but I don’t think–” Finn begins, look at Leroy for help.

“You _have_ to wear it, Finn,” Rachel protests. “It’s part of my people’s tradition, and if you don’t wear it, then it’s practically like you’re not celebrating with us at all, and–”

“Rachel, sweetie,” Leroy interrupts. “Let’s give Finn a break, shall we? It’s the first night of his first Hanukkah, and you don’t want to overwhelm him.”

Hiram puts his hands on Rachel’s shoulders. “Remember how we talked about this, honey? One foot at a time and not both feet at once.”

Rachel takes a deep breath, recomposing her face into a beaming smile. “Of course, Daddy, Dad. You’re right. I’m being silly. There’s plenty of time for that!” She turns her smile on Finn. “I’m sorry, Finn, I’m just so excited about you being here! Keep the yarmulke and you can wear it another night,” she says, then noticing her dads’ stern looks, adds, “if you _want_ to wear it.”

“Thanks, Rach,” Finn says. “It’s a really nice little hat. Maybe another night, ok?” He carefully stuffs the yarmulke into his coat pocket, mouthing “thank you” to Leroy when Rachel steps beside Finn to take him by the arm. Leroy winks in response.

“So, Finn, since this is your first Hanukkah, we wanted to let you light the menorah tonight,” Rachel explains, as she guides Finn into the room that Finn thinks of as the family room, but Rachel insists on calling ‘the parlor.’ The furniture has been rearranged somewhat, and there’s a table in front of the window now, draped in silver and blue fabric, with white twinkly lights around the window frame. A silver menorah sits in the middle of the table. “But I thought you might want to know a little more about Hanukkah first.”

Finn nods, because when Rachel talks, that’s the best thing to do. Rachel launches into a detailed explanation of Hanukkah, but all Finn really gets out of it is oil (which, since Puck keeps bringing that up, Finn already kinda of knew) and something about Scottish guys, which, Finn’s not sure how that has anything to do with being Jewish. Maybe the Scottish guys invaded Israel or something. Anyway, there’s oil and some king was serious, apparently. Or serial. Finn’s not quite sure, because he blanked out around the time Rachel said “two thousand and five hundred years ago,” and spent the entire lecture watching her mouth move and noticing how the little white twinkly lights around the window reflected in her eyes.

“...and that’s why we light a candle every night for eight nights,” Rachel finishes with a flourish, directing both her hands towards the menorah like she’s presenting it to Finn. Mr. Leroy and Mr. Hiram have now joined them in the parlor, so Rachel leads Finn up to the table with the menorah. “First, you light this candle, right here. It’s the shamash and it’s what we use to light all the other candles.”

Rachel points to the far right candle on the menorah. “This one. I’ll tell you when.”

Before Finn lights the candle, Hiram says something that Finn assumes is a Jewish prayer, “Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam asher kidishanu b'mitz'votav v'tzivanu l'had'lik neir shel Chanukah."

Leroy responds, “Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam she'asah nisim la'avoteinu bayamim haheim baziman hazeh."

Finally, Rachel adds, “Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam shehecheyanu v'kiyimanu v'higi'anu laz'man hazeh.” She smiles at Finn. “We only say that part on the first night. The other nights, we just say the prayers that Dad and Daddy said. Now you light the candle.”

Finn fumbles with the matches, but manages to get one lit long enough to light the end of the...whatever Jewish word Rachel just called the special candle-lighting candle. While he’s lighting the candle, Hiram and Rachel recite something else, and when he’s done, they sing a little song. Finn just stand there, holding the dripping special Jewish candle, wishing somebody would let him know what he’s suppose to do, because all he can remember is what Puck and Kurt told him, that it’s not a birthday cake and don’t blow it out.

“Finn, you can blow out the shamash,” Leroy says gently, when he notices the hot wax dripping down Finn’s hand, which Finn has been stoically pretending he doesn’t feel. Finn breathes a sigh of relief and quickly blows out the candle, being careful not the accidentally blow out the one on the menorah, too. He sets the special candle back in its little holder.

“Wow, that was really cool,’ Finn says, being completely honest, because even though he has no idea what they were saying, it was still cool to watch Rachel being so serious and intense about it. “Christmas is a lot less complicated at my house. It’s just, ‘hey, here’s this present!’ and ‘oh, pass me some cookies!’” He grins at Rachel who beams back at him.

“Who wants to eat?” Hiram asks. “Food first or presents?”

“Food,” Finn says, at the same time Rachel answers, “Presents!” They laugh at each other. “Whichever one Rachel wants to do,” Finn concedes, and Leroy and Hiram both chuckle.

“I can wait for presents,” Rachel says. “I wouldn’t want Finn to starve just because I’m greedy.”

Finn nods. “It’s possible. I haven’t eaten in, I dunno, two hours or something! I think my stomach has started protesting.”

They all sit at the table, and Finn eats about eight latkes, which Hiram serves with apple sauce on them. Finn thinks it’s weird and it doesn’t help him figure out the dessert or not issue, but he rolls with it, because they’re surprisingly tasty. Leroy made brisket puffs for himself and Finn, which causes Rachel to make a face and sniff a little, but she does concede that brisket is traditional. She and Hiram eat veggie and tofu puffs instead, and Finn’s one hundred percent sure that he and Leroy got the way better end of that deal.

After dinner, they open gifts, and it’s not a huge pile like it is on Christmas. Rachel has one box from her dads and then the package from Finn, there’s two each for Hiram and Leroy–  
Finn kicks himself for not thinking of bringing something–and two little boxes for Finn.

“Rachel needs to open the gift from us last,” Leroys says to Finn, almost apologetically.

“You first, Finn,” Rachel says. “You’re our guest.”

Finn opens the box from Hiram and Leroy, and thanks them for the Target gift card, which they explain is to help him get started on his college shopping. Hiram and Leroy’s gifts to each other include a pair of cuff links, a watch, and, hilariously (to them, anyway), they both bought each other a set of tickets to a performance of Billy Elliot in Columbus in March.

Rachel and Finn open their gifts to each other simultaneously. Finn knows Puck was right about the Lush stuff when Rachel squeals in delight, quickly rifling through the box and smelling everything. Finn’s gift is a large, black photo album. He looks up at Rachel.

“Look inside,” she says, and even as she smiles and sniffs a bath bomb, her tone is a little sad. Finn opens the album and sees that it’s full of pictures of them, together and separately, mostly at Glee rehearsals and performances for the individual pictures. “I know it’s a little cheesy,” Rachel admits, her voice the slightly bit shaky. “But I wanted you to have something to remember our best times together. These were our moments, Finn.”

Finn notices that Hiram and Leroy have slipped out of the parlor. Finn has to blink hard for a minute before he looks at Rachel. “Thank you, Rachel. This is...this is really great.” He forces himself to smile. Rachel puts her arms around his neck and kisses him, and when she pulls away, Finn’s smile is genuine.

“Ok, you two,” Leroy says, clearing his throat. “One more gift for Rachel.” Rachel claps in excitement, setting the Lush box aside and picking up the small flat package, more like an envelope. She carefully tears it open, and as she pulls out the stack of papers and glossy fliers inside, she yelps and drops the package.

“Seriously?” she asks, looking from Hiram to Leroy. They both nod. Rachel screams in excitement and flings herself at her dads, hugging and kissing them both. They spin her around and jump up and down a little before she turns back towards Finn. “They’re taking me on a trip to London at the end of the summer!”

She turns back to her dads and they return to their squealing and hugging and jumping up and down. Finn feels his stomach sink as he realizes his window of time with Rachel has just gotten that much smaller.


	3. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission: Impossible, Ms. Pacman, Dave notices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied domestic abuse and veiled reference to a pattern of self-harm

“Hey, Case!” David’s voice is upbeat and festive when he answers the phone. “How’s break treating you?”

“Hi, David,” Casey says, keeping his voice low, just in case his parents are anywhere near his bedroom door. Just in case he accidentally says something. “It’s going okay, I guess. I mean, it’s going, anyway. And not that much longer until we’re back in school, right? The break isn’t even that long.”

“No, it sure isn’t,” David agrees. “You getting out of the house at all?”

“Not really. I mean, my mom took me to the mall once,” Casey answers, tracing random designs with his finger on his quilt. “Oh! And I walked to the park once, but it was pretty cold, so I didn’t stay long. Just needed to be _out_ a little.”

“Oh, I bet the mall was crazy crowded. But I know what you mean, four walls gets confining.”

“Yeah,” Casey breathes, because David always seems to understand what Casey’s trying to say, even when Casey can’t even quite figure it out himself.

“You want to catch a movie? Your parents be cool with that?”

“Cool with one of the football players wanting to hang out with me?” Casey tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a squeak. “My dad would think it’s a miracle and offer to send you off with beer money just for talking to me.”

David chuckles. “Yeah, not if he talked to me for very long. But it’s probably better for him if I don’t, anyway.” He pauses for a second. “I can drop by in a little while?”

“Sure! Any time!” Casey chirps, then realizes he might sound too eager for David’s company, and Casey doesn’t want David to feel uncomfortable or obligated. “I mean, yeah, whenever’s good for you,” he finishes, trying to sound nonchalant, but probably only ending up sounding lame or something.

“Cool. I’ll swing by Taco Bell and grab some burritos and then I’ll be there. With my jacket on,” he adds with a snort.

As soon as Casey gets off the phone with David, he starts having second thoughts. David, here, at Casey’s house. Meeting Casey’s dad. This seems like a remarkably bad plan, a terrible plan that was not well thought through, and there’s not even any way to take it back without alerting David to the not-rightness of the situation.

Casey paces his room a few times, steeling himself for the conversation with his dad, then he peeks out of his room and looks down the hallway, listening, trying to judge the status of his dad, like those terrorist watches they have on the news. Is he on yellow or has he already spiked up into red?

It sounds quiet enough, no banging around, no loud swearing, and none of the harsh laughter that promises an equally harsh response to Casey’s dumb questions. Casey squares his shoulders. _David_ wants to come to _Casey’s_ house. Casey can do this.

“Dad?” Casey says, as he walks quietly into the living room.

“Hmm?” There’s some real-life crime show on the television instead of the usual news. “You need something, kid?” he adds in a growl.

“Yeah, dad,” Casey answers, trying to keep his voice low, but loud enough for his dad to hear. “My friend David, the one I told you about, remember? The football player. He’s gonna come pick me up and we were maybe going to see a movie.” Casey takes a deep breath. “If you say it’s okay.”

“Football player, huh?” Mick snorts. “He any good?”

“Yeah, he’s _really_ good,” Casey says, and he can’t keep the excitement out of his voice. He’s allowed to be excited when he talks about football. It’s just football, and that’s okay. “He’s being scouted by some really great colleges. McKinley’s probably going to win the championship again this year.”

“Hmm. What’s he doin’ being friends with a runt like you?” Mick laughs meanly. “Yeah, sure, maybe some of his talent will spill off and give you something worth goin’ on with.”

“He, um, he’s been helping me with my math stuff,” Casey says. He feels himself shrinking, and it might almost be funny, if he could see himself. “He’s really good at math, too. He might be an architect.”

“Well, let ‘im knock himself out. He’ll figure out what a waste of time you are eventually.” Mick takes a long pull from the bottle in his hand. “Now get out of here until you’re leaving, I want to hear how they figured it out it was an insurance scam.”

“Thank, dad. I’m sorry!” Casey hurries out of the living room and back to wait for Dave. He thinks about pulling out one of his dad’s cigarettes, but there’s no time for _that_ right now, not in time to be cleaned up before David gets there. He hopes David won’t want to spend too much time talking to Casey’s dad. Maybe David won’t figure out Casey’s a waste of time for a while longer.

 

Dave jostles his keys in his hand and knocks on the door. Casey’s house is a little smaller than Dave expected and in a little bit rougher section of town than Dave expected, too. He can hear some muffled yelling from inside the house, and from a few houses down, too.

Casey pushes the door open, slightly out of breath, his eyes wide. “David! Hi, um, hey, do you want to just go on and go, you don’t have to come–”

“Casey!” Mick growls and lumbers out of his recliner, cigarette in hand, shuffling towards the door. “Introduce me to your friend.” He jabs Casey in the small of the back. “Stand up straight, like a real man.”

Casey’s face pales ever so slightly and the look he gives Dave is apologetic. “Dad, this is David, David Karofsky. David, this is, um, this is my dad.” Casey’s voice is soft and monotone.

“Uh, hi.” Dave frowns a little but offers his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. O’Brien.”

Mick grabs Dave’s hand in a firm shake, gradually increasing the pressure on Dave’s hand. Dave’s frown deepens but he returns the pressure and adds a little more besides; he’s already not fond of Casey’s dad and if the man feels a little pain when he takes a drag on his cigarette, Dave will chalk it up to a good deed done.

Mick flinches, but then he chuckles, a rough, grating noise that sounds nothing at all like Casey’s laugh. “That’s how a man does it, Casey. You could learn somethin’ from your friend here. Don’t take shit from anybody.”

“Yes, dad,” Casey says. “Is it okay if I go now?”

“So, David,” Mick continues, as if Casey hasn’t even spoken. “You planning on gettin’ my boy into any trouble? I remember how it was, back in high school.”

Dave weighs his options for a half-second before cracking his best shit-eating grin. “Naw, nothing that the cops won’t turn a blind eye to, right?”

Mick snorts a laugh and plants a punch, one that’s probably meant to appear good-natured, to Casey’s shoulder. Casey sways on his feet, but the expression on his face doesn’t even waver. “Now _that_ sounds like exactly what I remember from high school.” He gives Casey a shove towards the door. “Get outta here, kid. Don’t do anything too stupid, because I’m not bailing your sorry ass out.” He gives Dave a grin. “Right? No bail.”

“No bail money necessary,” Dave nods, winking exaggeratedly. “C’mon, Casey.” He steps back towards the stoop, trying not to let the relief show on his face when he hits the cold outside air. Mick shuts the door so closely behind Casey that it clips the heels of his Converse. Dave’s face immediately changes, the facade falling. “Oh, damn,” he says softly as they walk down the sidewalk. “Did I fool him?”

Casey doesn’t say anything, but he nods his head. He starts to shake a little, his face going even paler, dark smudges under his eyes. Casey looks up at Dave with those big damn trusting eyes, nods again with a smile that he’s obviously having to work _hard_ for.

“Oh, shit, you don’t have your coat,” Dave notices as they reach the truck. “Hang on.” He rummages in the back seat for a minute. “Here, it’s a little big and a lot worn out, but it’s clean.” He tosses Casey a black hoodie that does seem as if it’s seen better days–or maybe even better years.

Casey looks at Dave for a long moment before he pulls on the hoodie, which engulfs him. He pushes the sleeves up several inches to get his hands out. “Thanks,” he says, pulling the hood up around his head. With his face peeking out, he looks like one of those Ewoks from the old Star Wars movie.

“No problem.” Dave climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. “So you have a preference?”

For some reason, Casey blushes and disappears even more into the hoodie. “For the...for the movie?”

“Yeah. I mean, there’s a lot of new stuff out.”

“Whatever you want to see,” Casey says, with what looks like it might be a shrug, though it’s mostly hidden by the hoodie. “I haven’t been to a movie in ages, so I’m fine with anything. Maybe, um...”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe nothing with a lot of blood, though? I mean, unless that’s what you want to see.”

“Okay.” Dave shrugs. “I don’t think there’s anything too gory out right now.”

“David?” Casey’s voice is barely above a whisper and he’s fidgeting, twisting his fingers together.

“Yeah, Case?” Dave looks over at him at the stop sign, a little concerned.

“I’m really sorry. About back there. My dad.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Dave waves his right hand dismissively before returning it to the steering wheel. “We all have relatives that, you know. You should meet my Uncle Rick.” Dave shakes his head. “He is a piece of work.”

“Okay,” Casey says, but it’s less than convincing on account of the quiet sniffle that accompanies it.

“I mean, if you really want to meet Uncle Rick to make sure,” Dave continues, attempting to add a little levity, “I can arrange that, but I’m warning you, I call him Rick the Dick when my dad’s not around to hear.”

Casey giggles a little. It’s quiet, but at least it’s a laugh. “No, thank you.”

“Your loss, Case.” Dave grins as he parks the truck. “Let’s go figure out what’s playing.”

Casey nods, and follows along behind Dave after they exit the truck. Casey shoving his hands deep inside the pockets of Dave’s hoodie. Dave stops outside the theatre, looking up at the board listing all the movies. “Well, what do you think?”

“Um, maybe _Mission: Impossible_?”

“Yeah, that’d be cool. Awesome.” They join the slowly-moving line and make their way up to the window. “Aw, it’s like 45 minutes until the next showing. We’ll have to play some hardcore Ms. Pacman.”

“That’s awful,” Casey says, laughing. “I’m really good at Ms. Pacman and then you won’t give me a drive home, because you’ll be busy being so sad about how good I am at Ms. Pacman!” He bounces up on his toes a little.

Dave laughs. “You could live at the theatre, right? Isn’t there a book or a movie or something about that?”

“Is there? I don’t think I know that one,” Casey says to Dave, and then to the girl behind the ticket counter, “One for _Mission: Impossible_ , please.” He slides his money across the counter, and asks, “Um, could I have my change in quarters?” The girl rolls her eyes, but gives him a handful of quarters.

When Casey steps to the side, Dave steps up and makes the same identical requests. The girl rolls her eyes again and Dave pockets the quarters as he returns the gesture. “All right, Ms. Pacman and Tom Cruise both await.”

“That would be a _weird_ movie!” Casey laughs.

“Would Tom Cruise play Clyde or Ms. Pacman herself?”

“The orange ghost is called _Sue_ in Ms. Pacman. No Clyde,” Casey grins. “So, I guess he could still play Clyde, though, because he’s all kinds of crazy.”

“Coach Sylvester in a Ms. Pacman movie,” Dave muses as they step over to the machine. “We might be on to something.”

“Coach Sylvester opposite Tom Cruise in a Ms. Pacman movie!” Casey laughs, putting a quarter into the machine and directing Ms. Pacman around the screen. “That is the best movie ever!”

“We’ve got to get our idea to Spielberg.”

“After...I get...this last pac-dot,” Casey says, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. “Got it!” He turns a sunshine-bright smile on Dave, who returns the smile perhaps a little more weakly than usual. When Casey turns back to the game, Dave works his jaw for a second, studying Casey’s profile.

Casey’s... a kid. Fifteen. Sure, intellectually, Dave knows that fifteen isn’t that young, that Case is still in high school, but he’s _tiny_. But something about the stance of Casey at the game, the tip of his tongue protruding from his mouth–Dave is suddenly and forcefully aware that Casey is a guy, one on the cusp of tumbling towards _man_ , and his mouth feels a little dry.

“Oh man, I’m boxed in!” Casey exclaims, as the ghosts corner Ms. Pacman to her untimely demise. “Oh well,” he shrugs, turning back to Dave, “beat _that_!”

“All right, all right,” Dave concedes, happy to turn his focus to the screen in front of him. Suddenly noticing his friend–his more than two years’ younger friend–was not on Dave’s agenda for the day. “Let me show you what I’ve got.”

Casey giggles and leans against the Ms. Pacman machine, right there next to Dave, resting his elbow on the edge of the cabinet so he can see the screen and watch Dave at the same time. Dave thinks that this is possibly a ploy to make sure he loses, especially when he catches a glimpse of slightly pink cheeks and green eyes.

“You missed the pac-dots in that corner, David,” Casey says. “Bad call.”

“Got distracted,” Dave mutters, smiling slightly.

“You’ve gotta watch out for Blinky!” Casey says, leaning slightly closer to Dave. “Run, Ms. Pacman, _run_! Oh, David, you’re in trouble now, look!”

Dave grimaces and nods. He is definitely in trouble now.

 

“Top, bottom, or middle,” Casey asks David, as they walk into the theatre.

David looks at him strangely for a brief moment, then shakes his head as if he’s forgetting something. “Oh, top, I guess,” he says.

“Me, too,” Casey grins, climbing up the steps to the top row of the theatre. “Less people walking over my feet that way, and then if I make noises, it bothers people less, too!” He walks down the aisle to slightly past center, so that David can have the seat that’s in the perfect middle of the top aisle. Best seat in the house, as far as Casey’s concerned, but the seat next to David is a close second, for two completely different reasons.

David sits down and sets the box of Raisinets in the cupholder. “I like to wait until the actual movie’s started,” he explains, “not just the ads or the previews.”

“I always eat all of my candy before the previews,” Casey confesses. “I can’t help it. It’s just right there, right? And it’s _candy_ , and how do you not eat it all when it’s candy and it’s _right there_.” He re-situates himself in his seat, folding one leg up underneath him. “You have remarkable self-control to make it all the way to the movie.”

“I guess so,” David chuckles. “Never thought of it that way.”

“Maybe you don’t think about candy as much as I do,” Casey says. “I’m not sure what the normal amount of time is for that, though.”

“Well, I think it’s pretty normal to think about food in general,” David says wryly. “You should eat more food, maybe.”

“I eat food,” Casey argues. “I eat food all the time.”

“More steak,” David adds, grinning a little. “You can’t live on candy and PB & J, Case.”

“I _like_ PB &J,” Casey insists, and that’s the truth, if not the whole truth and nothing but the truth. “I eat other stuff, anyway.”

“You’ve had Pat’s breakfast pizza, right?”

“Yeah,” Casey nods, “but only the once. We don’t really, um, eat out. Much.” Casey fights the urge to tuck his other leg under his body and curl into a ball, because it’s just David, and he’s not prying.

“Oh, man, too bad. That? That’s a breakfast.”

“I read somewhere that the whole breakfast is the most important meal of the day thing isn’t really true, anyway,” Casey says, twisting a piece of his hair around his finger.

“Yeah, maybe, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Casey agrees. It probably wouldn’t hurt, but there’s really only so many times a day he can eat PB&J, no matter how much he likes it. And peanut butter toast? Not really all that different from PB&J.

“We should grab one one morning before school,” David says almost absently as the previews start.

“Oh,” Casey breathes, “yeah, we could do that sometime, maybe.” He bites down on his lip to contain the huge smile that threatens to explode across his face, probably freaking David out in the process. He contents himself with a happy wrinkle of his nose, because that’s a little less pathetic, at least. He’s working so hard to not subject David to what Casey’s dad always calls his _enthusiasm_ , like enthusiasm is this horrible thing. Maybe it is, so Casey tries to rein it in as the movie starts.

 

“That was great!” Dave says as they push open the doors and head into the parking lot. “Tom Cruise may be nuts, but he still did good in that.”

“I think it was better than all of them but the first one,” Casey agrees. “I still think that one’s the best. We have it on tape.” He pulls the hood of Dave’s hoodie back up over his head. “Wow, it got _really_ cold!”

“Yeah.” Dave rubs his hands together. “I wish I’d brought my gloves!”

“You wanna to stick your hands in my pockets?” Casey offers, holding out the front pocket of the hoodie, which contains his own hands. “Well, _your_ pockets, technically.”

Dave’s thankful for the dark and the shadows, because he’s pretty sure he blanches. “Nah, we’re almost to the truck,” he recovers after just a beat. “I’ll be fine.”

“I sure hope so,” Casey says, almost skipping as he walks, possibly in an attempt to stay warm. “If your hands froze and fell off, that wouldn’t be very good.”

Dave laughs. “Yeah, luckily that would take awhile.”

“It would be hard to win the championship if you didn’t have hands,” Casey continues. “You couldn’t catch or throw. There’s kind of a lot of stuff you need hands for!” He freezes, a stricken, almost panicky look on his face. “For _football_ , I mean. You really need hands for a lot of stuff for football.”

“Schoolwork, too,” Dave points out, unlocking the truck and turning on the heat before he even shuts his door. “Not sure any of my teachers would accept ‘my hands fell off’ as a good excuse.”

“You could, um, show them?” Casey suggests. “Your hands. Where they used to be. And, you know, aren’t.” He perches awkwardly on the truck’s passenger seat, back stiff and straight.

“Yeah, you ought to meet Mr. Tumelaire.” Dave shakes his head. “AP Modern Euro? His religion. _Nothing_ is more important than finishing a DBQ.”

“Hard to write with arm nubs,” Casey says, absently. “Kinda gross, too.”

Dave makes a face and laughs. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Well, you’d better keep your hands, then,” Casey says, nodding his head along with his words. “Anyway, they’re nice, your hands. What I mean is, it’s nice, having hands, and you’d look weird with no hands. Well, um, you wouldn’t, but.” He sighs. “Sorry. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m saying. I just say stuff that doesn’t make any sense.”

Dave chuckles in a way that he hopes doesn’t sound mean. “I do that, too. Usually in English class, but other times too.”

“I do it all the time,” Casey shrugs. “My dad says it’s because I’m too much like my mom.”

“That’s not really very nice to say,” Dave responds, then winces. “Sorry, none of my business. Just.”

“Well, if I’d just, you know, _not_ be like that. I dunno. I should try harder.” Casey swings his foot. “It’s hard for him, having a kid like me.”

“Wait, what?” Dave frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean, Case? I mean, I’m not a parent or anything, but I’d think a parent should be happy to have a kid like you. Or me. Either of us.”

“Oh, you know.” Casey shrugs again, not looking in Dave’s direction. “Like how I am. I mean, you saw my dad. He played football and he was in the Army, and, just, he’s tough and then he goes and gets stuck with a kid like me. I mean, I can see why he’s disappointed, ‘cause, well.” He make a little gesture with his hands, palms up, like he’s demonstrating why someone might be disappointed with him. There’s no particular emotion in his voice while he’s explaining, just a matter-of-fact tone of acceptance.

“That’s bullshit,” Dave says bluntly as he pulls to the curb in front of Casey’s house. “The only one who should be disappointed is you, and I know it’s not my business, but seriously, Case, that’s messed up of him.”

“I’m sorry,” Casey says, his voice thin. “I shouldn’t have said that stuff. You’re right, it’s not your stuff to have to worry about. I didn’t, I just, like I said. I just start talking and, and sometimes I just say a lot more than I should. I’m sorry. I’ll, um, I’ll go on in now.” He fumbles with the door lock.

“Case. That’s not what I meant, and I think you know that.” Dave shakes his head. “I just don’t think you should think it’s okay for your dad to be disappointed with you.”

The look Casey gives him is sweet and sad, and also resigned. “It’s different for me than for you, David. Nobody could ever be disappointed in you.”

Dave figures he must look incredulous, because that’s how he feels. “Case, I’ve disappointed my dad more times than I want to remember. But the difference is that it was because of things I actively chose to do. He wasn’t disappointed in who I was, because that’s just not right.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Casey says. “It’s just...how it is, though.” He finally manages to unlock the door and push it open.

“I wish it wasn’t,” Dave says sincerely. He has the brief thought of how easy it would be to lean over and kiss Casey, to help Casey forget, and he tightens his grip on the steering wheel to stop himself. “Merry Christmas, Case.”

“Merry Christmas,” Casey whispers back, and then climbs out of the truck, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Dave watches Casey unlock his front door and disappear into the house. Dave frowns as the door closes. He hopes Casey really does have a merry Christmas–and a happier new year.


	4. Eight Crazy Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanukkah, Christmas, and Chicago at last.

“Happy holidays to us.” Puck grins up at Kurt.

“We should send Ms. Pillsbury one of those cookie bouquets as a thank you,” Kurt agrees, leaning down and brushing his lips over Puck’s. “Though I’m not sure how she’d feel about that.”

“Two of her students thanking her for giving them time alone to get naked? Probably not very well.”

“You aren’t completely naked yet,” Kurt notes almost clinically. “Why is that, again?”

“Because you pushed me down onto the bed as soon as I got my shirt off. Not that I’m complaining about that, mind.” Puck smirks and pulls Kurt down, kissing him hard, lips and tongues sloppy and everywhere. They’re both working every day that isn’t Christmas or Chicago, and Finn’ll be around some of the time, so in Puck’s mind, they should make the most of the unexpected afternoon.

“That’s right,” Kurt replies when at last they break apart, and his hand runs down Puck’s chest to his jeans, working to unfasten them. “But let’s rectify the situation, shall we?”

“Mmmhmm,” Puck nods, lifting his hips as Kurt undresses him. He hisses a little as Kurt lowers himself back over Puck, their erections brushing together before Kurt shifts and leaves them nestled firmly against each other. “Just like that.”

“Just like.” Kurt’s mouth is on his neck, sucking and nipping, and Puck tilts his head back, giving Kurt better access. As careful as Puck is to leave marks only where Kurt can cover them easily, Kurt’s usually even more careful, because Puck isn’t someone to randomly wear a scarf or a shirt and tie. But for today, for the next week or so, Kurt doesn’t have to be, and he definitely is not.

“I love you,” Puck murmurs. “I just, so much, Kurt.”

“I know, I know,” Kurt responds, lips against Puck’s ear. “God, I love you. Mine, my Puck.”

“Want you inside me,” Puck insists. “Just you, filling me up, fuck you’re so hot, K.” He slides his hand between the two of them, wraps his fingers around Kurt’s cock, and drags his hand down its length. “I love your cock, blue eyes, so big and so hard and please.”

“Yes, yes.” Kurt’s lips draw over Puck’s jawline and brush over his lips before they withdraw and Kurt’s rummaging through his drawer. Puck runs one hand down Kurt’s side and over his hips and down his thighs and fuck he’s the luckiest guy on the fucking planet. Sometimes he’s afraid that he’s going to wake up and it’s all just a dream, that he’s still stuck in fucking February or something with Kurt off at that dick school with that dick Blaine, but even if he did wake up he’d make sure things were different, better, because there’s no way he could wait six months to kiss his Kurt again.

But Kurt’s lips are real against his, and oh fuck _yes_ , Kurt’s cock is real, slowly pushing into him, and Puck folds his legs up, moving so Kurt can go deeper as Puck stretches around him. “Oh, so good, baby.” The words fall from Kurt’s lips in a rush, mumbled and heartfelt at the same time. “So tight, fuck, yes.” The last s is almost a hiss, and Puck cracks his eyes to look at Kurt, his head thrown back and so much pale neck exposed. Puck absently thinks that he’s going to have to do something about its unmarred appearance, and then Kurt moves again, and thought is largely abandoned.

Kurt pounds into him, and Puck laces their fingers together, one set of joined hands moving over Puck’s erection. They’re moving together without thinking, falling into a fast but not quite frantic rhythm, and Puck tightens around Kurt at the deepest point of Kurt’s inward thrust. Kurt gasps a little and Puck would grin if it didn’t take too much effort, so instead he just does it again, and Kurt makes that awesome little humming noise that Puck’s pretty sure Kurt’s not even ever aware of making.

Two, three, four more times Kurt is fully sheathed inside him, their hands tighter and faster on Puck’s cock, and then they’re coming, one right after the other, and Puck’s not sure who was first and who was seconds later. All he knows is that Kurt’s collapsing on top of him and it’s warm and wonderful. After a moment Kurt grabs a blanket and throws it over both of them, and Puck takes the opportunity to pick out a spot on Kurt’s neck, higher than he’d usually mark. Kurt doesn’t protest or move away, just slightly tilts his head and gives Puck better access, and when Puck pulls away at last, the spot is dark and bigger than Puck had actually intended. There’s no doubt _what_ it is, either, no chance of explaining it away as something else.

Puck’s neck probably looks similar, actually, and Kurt confirms it a moment later when he presses a finger gently over one spot and smirks. “Can’t take us anywhere.”

“Horrible,” Puck shrugs. “Tragic, even.”

“How will we survive?” Kurt agrees, and they shift until they’re in a comfortable arrangement of limbs. “What time to do we need to be back at your place?”

“Five-thirty? Mainly because Hannah will start to think we’ve forgotten. Or, more precisely, that we’ve forgotten the presents.”

"We can't have that," Kurt agrees with a laugh.

 

And, in fact, when they do finally make themselves get up, clean off, and then head towards Puck's apartment, presents are the first thing that Hannah mentions.

"Oh! Look, Mom, Kurt brought presents! Three of them!"

"I told you," Puck nods, mock-sadly. "She only wants us here for the gifts."

"No, I only want _you_ here for the presents," Hannah retorts. "Kurt can stay even if he doesn't bring presents."

"I guess I'll just have to take your gifts back, then!"

"No! Mom! Noah's teasing me!"

"Noah. Hannah." Rina appears from the kitchen, drying her hands. "Children." She shakes her head. "You know, I was an only child."

"I was once one of those," Kurt remarks. "Then I acquired a little brother who's taller than me. Life is strange sometimes."

"Dinner's almost ready?" Puck asks, sniffing the air.

"It is. Hannah wanted to make sure we lit the menorah as early as possible–to get presents as early as possible, naturally." She shakes her head. "Latkes tonight. Maybe blintzes tomorrow."

"Awesome."

Hannah fills the meal with stories about their holiday party at school, and how she's the only Jewish kid in her class, so she talked a lot about having eight days of presents and didn't mention that really it's a pretty minor holiday. Puck shakes his head and laughs, because he used to do the same thing.

"What about the two of you?" Rina asks when Hannah pauses to gobble down more food. "Did you have any holiday celebrations at school? Apart from your glee club thing yesterday, I mean."

"PFLAG party today," Puck answers. "It was pretty packed, even if you go with the idea that a few people were there just for the food."

Kurt snorts. "I have no doubt that about ten of the _regulars_ are really there just for the free food, but I'm not going to complain. The more people that show up, the more people like Casey can feel like they're not being singled out by attending."

"How many people do you usually have?"

"Anywhere from twenty-eight to forty, or thereabouts," Kurt answers. "Today we had forty-five, though. It's good; I don't think it'll just disappear when all of us graduate."

"Can we open presents now? I mean, light the menorah?" Hannah blurts. "Look, Mom, we're all done eating! Please!"

"What about the dishes?"

"I'll do them afterwards, I promise."

"All right, all right." Rina grins and shakes her head, leading them back into the living room. Hannah bounces in place while they light the menorah, and Puck's reminded a little of Kurt when he's excited. Kurt just watches, almost like he's cataloging the information he's obtaining, and then at last Hannah sits down, eyes alight.

"I'm first, right?"

"I don't know," Puck says solemnly. "Shouldn't we let Kurt go first?"

Hannah's eyes widen, and she looks torn before Kurt pokes Puck in the arm. "Be nice to her, Puck."

Puck grins. "I'm just teasing her."

"Noah!" she wails, but she cuts herself off as three presents appear in her lap. "Which one should I open first?"

"Open mine before Kurt's," Puck tells her. "They sorta go together, in a way."

"You can open mine in whatever order you choose."

"I'll open Mom's first," Hannah declares, and then she rips into the wrapping paper with no little gusto. "Ooh, this is so cool!" She holds up what appears to be some kind of craft kit, from what little Puck can read before she turns it around and he can't read the front.

"I thought it'd give you something to do during the break," Rina explains.

"Yeah! Thanks, Mom." Hannah beams at Rina and then turns her attention to Puck's present, which is relatively small. She frowns as she picks it up. "It's so light, Noah." Puck just shrugs and grins. Hannah opens the box and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. "This entitles… oh COOL!" she shrieks, jumping up and throwing her arms around a surprised Puck. "Mom! Noah got me _dance classes_!"

"Really?" Rina looks at Puck sharply. "When are they?"

"Monday evenings at 7," Puck answers for her. "It's the place just over on Bellefontaine."

"Oh, all right," Rina nods. "That sounds like it should work. Fun, Hannah!"

Hannah's still grinning as she rips into Kurt's present. "Ooh. Dance sneakers? Are these for my class?"

Kurt nods, and then he's the one looking startled as Hannah flings her arms around him. "Thank you! This is so cool!" She grins at Puck then. "Your turn, Noah!"

"Yes, your turn," Kurt agrees, grinning, and Puck quickly finds himself with a lapful of boxes. The smallest box is from Hannah, with a hand-drawn certificate offering to do his chores for one week.

"Thanks, squirt," Puck grins. "What should I open next?"

"The one from Kurt!"

"Okay." Puck picks up a relatively small box and shakes it. "Is it alive?"

"Yes, I bought you a baby rattlesnake," Kurt deadpans. "It's the gift that keeps on giving… venom."

"You should have bought one for Rachel," Puck jokes, opening the box and then laughing. "That's _awesome_."

"What is it?"

Puck grins at Kurt. "It says 'Bad Ass' on it."

"Just in case anyone doubted you."

"As if!" Puck snorts. "My badass-ness is legendary."

"Is that a good thing?" Rina asks with a raise of the eyebrow.

"Sure," Kurt nods. "Everyone needs to be a legend… in his or her own mind." He smiles sweetly at Puck, who throws his arm back around Kurt's shoulders to pull him close, tickling him. "Okay, okay, I give," Kurt squeaks, and Puck releases him with a grin. "Open your other present."

Inside the box is a shirt that doesn't quite look like something Rina would pick out, but rather what Kurt would pick out given certain strictures, which makes Puck laugh inwardly as he thanks his mom.

"Your turn, Mom," Puck insists, and soon Rina's lap is loaded with packages. The first is from Hannah, a similar homemade certificate to the one Puck got, only this one promises that she'll make her bed for an entire week without complaint. She opens Puck's next to reveal eight dinner plates, and she looks up questioningly. "Thought maybe you'd like new dishes, since Hannah and I keep cracking pieces in the dishwasher."

"They're lovely," Rina nods. "Thank you." Kurt's present is one of the matching serving pieces, all of it from Ikea, and she thanks Kurt profusely as well.

"And now you," Puck says to Kurt, as Hannah starts to open her craft kit. Kurt smiles and opens the package before grinning. "Awesome. I'm going to kick your ass at this, you know."

"It's Motorsport," Puck answers. "I wouldn't expect anything else, even if it is a new version."

"Your Nana is coming tomorrow night," Rina says after a moment. "Kurt, you're welcome to join us as often or as infrequently as you like. I fully expect to not even see Noah at least one or two nights." She shakes her head. "It really is a minor holiday," she confides. "Don't let on."

Kurt laughs. "I'll try not to."

Puck pulls Kurt towards his room, then and they lie on the bed talking quietly. "You don't have to come," Puck says, making a face. "Anyway, we can always exchange presents whenever, I don't care if it's after the menorah gets lit or not.”

“Just tell me when,” Kurt shrugs. “And you did promise me a... how did you put it? A proper Jewish Christmas?”

Puck grins. “Yeah. Whenever you’re done with your family stuff on Christmas Day, we’ll do that.”

“I’m holding you to that, you know.” Kurt rolls onto his side, chest pressed into Puck’s side. “You should take me home so I can beat you soundly at my new game.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck laughs grudgingly. “I see how it is. You keep me around to have someone to beat.”

“It’s true,” Kurt admits, deadpan.

When they get over to the Hudmels’, there’s miraculously no one using the TV, so they settle in the living room and fire the game up. Puck gets his ass served to him as predicted, though he does at least get some impressive kisses to soften the blow. The garage door rattles and then the unmistakable sound of Finn entering the house follows.

“Finn’s home,” Puck announces unnecessarily. “Think he’s any less worried about screwing up Hanukkah now?”

“God, I hope so.”

“I’m home!” Finn hollers. “Where is everybody?”

“Living room!” Puck yells back.

“Dad and Carole are upstairs,” Kurt adds, slightly quieter.

“Oh, sorry,” Finn says, stepping into the living room, looking sheepish. He has what looks like a large photo album cradled in his arms. He nods a ‘wussup’ to Puck before turning his attention to Kurt. “Ooh, Motorsport 4?”

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt grins. “How was your first night of Hanukkah ever?”

“The food was...weird,” Finn says, settling into the recliner, still holding the album, like he’s not sure where to put it down. “I mean, you put applesauce on the latkes, which makes it more like a dessert, and then I was really confused,” he shakes his head. “But I gave her that gold star set from Lush and she, like, _exploded_ or something, she was so excited. Awesome call, dude.” He holds up a fist for Puck to bump.

Puck smirks a little and completes the gesture. “Just wait for the blintzes, man. They’re awesome.”

“Those are the other pancake things, right?”

“Yeah, with the cheese filling,” Puck nods.

“We didn’t have applesauce,” Kurt remarks. “Is this one of those things that Rachel’s going to tell you you aren’t Jewish enough?”

Puck laughs. “I won’t tell her if you won’t.”

“So, what is it with Jews and all these different kinds of pancakes, anyway?” Finn asks. “Is that in the Jewish Bible? ‘And Moses brought down from Mount Fuji recipes for fifteen different kinds of pancakes.’”

“They’re easy to fry in oil,” Puck shrugs. “There’s doughnuts, too. Maybe it was some kind of preemptive anti-Atkins thing.”

“You guys are also like _super_ obsessed with oil,” Finn says, then shakes his head. “Or maybe that’s just you. Rachel went into some long rant about Scottish people and I don’t know what that has to do with Hanukkah or anything like that, so I just sorta pictured the Hanukkah Armadillo talking to me instead.”

Puck guffaws. “Yeah, Hanukkah’s _about_ oil, dude.”

“Then what’s the deal with the Scottish guys?”

“The Macabees?”

“Yeah! Those guys!” Finn smiles.

“Not Scottish.” Puck scratches his head. “Uh. Do you know anything about Hanukkah? At all?”

“You should look up the Maccabeats on YouTube. Candlelight,” Kurt comments. “It was very helpful.”

“You watched a parody song about Hanukkah?” Puck asks, incredulous.

“It was informative!”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll do that,” Finn says, rearranging his photo album on his lap. “I should probably find a place for this, anyway.”

“Is that what Rachel gave you?” Kurt asks.

Finn nods. “Yeah.” He pulls it in towards his chest just a little and tries to subtly wrap a protective arm around it.

“Cool,” Puck shrugs, because Finn’s either wanting to keep it close or he’s got a boner for some inexplicable reason.

Finn seems to suddenly notice Puck’s necklace, because he exclaims, “Badass!”

“See? Not just in my own mind,” Puck pokes Kurt in the side.

Finn carefully sets the photo album on the coffee table, giving Kurt a quick narrow-eyed look that may be meant to indicate Kurt’s not to touch the album, and leans over to look at Puck’s necklace. “That’s cool. Hanukkah present?”

“Yep,” Puck nods. Clearly it’s not a boner, which is a relief.

“In case he forgot who he was,” Kurt grins.

“So now I’m senile, too?” Puck frowns, trying hard not to ruin the effect by laughing.

“Poor baby.” Kurt pauses the game for a moment and leans over to quickly kiss Puck. “Your life is difficult today.”

“It is!” Puck protests.

“Like a dog tag, only for badasses,” Finn adds.

“And now I’m a small furry mammal,” Puck sighs. “Did you two plan to team up on me?”

“No, Finn’s comment was just an unexpected bonus.” Kurt finishes his race and offers the controller to Finn with a gesture. When Finn takes it, Kurt moves closer to Puck and rests his head on Puck’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s usually pick on Finn day,” Finn says, jabbing a button with his thumb. “Guess it’s your turn for once. Happy Hanukkah, dude.”

“Does that mean it’s my turn for eight days, and yours for the other,” Puck pauses for a second, “three hundred fifty-seven? ‘Cause that’s not a bad deal, really.” He rests his cheek on the top of Kurt’s head, watching Finn fumble his way through his first attempt at the game.

Finn just snorts and turns his attention back to the screen. “Whatever, dude. It’s your holiday.”

Puck and Kurt sit there watching Finn for a few more minutes before Puck stretches reluctantly and stands. “Damn work.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees, settling against the arm of the couch. “Be good.”

“Always good, blue eyes.” Puck leans down and kisses Kurt a final time before leaving the room and then heading out of the house.

 

Puck is pretty sure that he could get used to life as it is when there’s a break from school. Having the Nav means he can sleep an extra fifteen minutes. Besides that, he’s not cold when he gets to work, because the cold is deep enough that even hats and gloves and shit aren’t quite keeping it out completely. Not being cold means that it’s easier to get everything ready and open. Then once he’s done with work, he can go home and shower and change, before driving over and picking up Kurt at the shop.

On Wednesday, they go over to Kurt’s at his request, and Puck lounges on the bed while Kurt takes a quick shower of his own. Puck wasn’t really paying attention when Kurt went into the bathroom, so he’s expecting Kurt to be dressed or something. When Kurt emerges with just a towel around his waist, Puck grins.

“I was starting to wish I hadn’t showered at home, too,” he remarks as Kurt walks over to the bed and lies down next to him.

“It seemed like a waste of energy to get dressed just yet,” Kurt says lazily.

“Hmm. I suppose it would, if you were planning on, you know. Getting undressed any time soon.”

“Oh, didn’t I mention that part? You’re overdressed, by the way.”

“This might be true,” Puck admits, sliding his hand under Kurt’s towel and cupping Kurt’s balls for a moment before running his palm up Kurt’s cock. “It could be argued that you’re overdressed as well.”

“In a towel?”

“Overcovered, then.”

“That I will concede.” Kurt’s fingers slip under the sweatshirt Puck pulled on after his own shower, pushing the fabric up while his lips trail behind it, brushing against Puck’s chest. Puck lets his fingers close around Kurt’s erection for a moment before releasing it and removing his sweatshirt entirely. “Better,” Kurt murmurs, bring their bare chests together, and Puck nods his agreement just before Kurt’s lips close over his.

Puck puts his hand back under Kurt’s towel as Kurt’s tongue presses insistently against Puck’s lips, and Puck responds by thrusting his own tongue into Kurt’s mouth and pumping his hand slowly up and down Kurt’s length. Kurt’s hands fumble at Puck’s jeans and he moves his hand for a moment to help slide the rest of his clothes off, then pulls Kurt’s towel off and tosses it to the side. Puck moves his head and takes Kurt in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around Kurt’s cock and bobbing his head up and down until it’s glistening and Puck releases Kurt with a loud pop.

He crawls back up Kurt’s body and kisses him deeply, then picks up Kurt’s hand and guides it behind him. Kurt traces his finger down over Puck’s entrance and then rolls slightly to the side before shifting onto his knees behind Puck. “Like this, baby?” Kurt whispers, his hand on Puck’s cock and then Puck whines loudly as Kurt’s tongue repeats the motion of Kurt’s fingers. He nods as Kurt’s tongue pushes inside him, warm and wet.

“Fuck, K,” Puck cries. “So good.” He pushes back slightly, then into Kurt’s hand, which tightens around the base of his cock almost painfully. “Yeah, just like that,” he continues, still nodding.

Then Kurt’s tongue is gone as suddenly as it appeared, and Puck whines again, whimpering and pleading with Kurt to not stop. Then Kurt’s fingers thrust in where his tongue was, slick and thick, three at once, and Puck cries out as Kurt twitches his fingertips and then slowly moves them, carefully brushing against Puck’s prostate with each swipe. “Mmm, ready, baby?” Kurt asks, pulling his fingers back out, and Puck nods again as Kurt positions himself and then thrusts in, one slow long motion.

“Move,” Puck gasps out as Kurt just stops, fully inside but not moving. He tightens around Kurt and tries to rock his hips but Kurt’s hands tighten on his hips, holding him in place. “Please, blue eyes.”

“Tell me.”

“Want you hard and fast, you feel so good.”

“You’re so tight for me, so hot, keeping me warm,” Kurt responds, voice breathy. “Are you going to scream for me, Puck?”

“Yes,” Puck hisses. “Gonna scream,” he agrees, nodding, and then he stops talking as Kurt starts moving, his movements sure and smooth and forceful. Kurt’s hand slides back to Puck’s cock, grasping it firmly, and Kurt establishes a rhythm quickly, slamming into Puck. Puck knows he’s making some kind of noises and he hears them echoed by Kurt, syllables dropping into the air between them without any particular meaning other than _yes just like this_.

It doesn’t take long before Puck can feel himself about to come, and he clenches around Kurt as Kurt’s hand speeds up and tightens around Puck. Kurt shudders behind him and then they’re both coming, both screaming out as they do, until they collapse onto the bed in a heap. After a moment, Puck registers that there’s something scratchy against his cheek, and he reaches up to move it.

“Oh, look,” he says lazily. “How handy, someone brought a towel.”

Kurt snorts. “The better to clean you with my dear.” He takes it from Puck and wipes them both off before tossing it in the floor and kissing Puck deeply.

“We should probably get going,” Puck says reluctantly. “If Mom is getting Nana, that means she got off an hour or two early, and it’s almost dark already.”

“Solstice,” Kurt nods. They pull apart and Puck pulls his clothes back on while Kurt digs in his closet. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I should give you your gift now.”

“Okay?”

“It’s not really wrappable, and even if it were, I think the shape would sort of give it away, to be honest.”

Puck shrugs. “Okay. Now you’ve got my curiosity up.”

“Sit down and close your eyes,” Kurt orders, and Puck does so. “Hands out. No, a little wider.” Puck moves his hands a little. “Yes, there you go.” Puck can hear movement in the closet and then something heavy is placed in his hands.

“Kurt...”

The bed dips as Kurt sits down as well. “Open your eyes.”

Puck opens his eyes and takes in Kurt’s little grin, bottom lip caught between his teeth, then looks down. “Holy shit, K.”

“It’s not new,” Kurt hastens to explain. “But it’s been re-something or another and I’m pretty sure it’s the one you keep staring at whenever we go into Dayton and–”

“It’s perfect,” Puck interrupts him. “Just, holy shit. You... it still had to cost a ton and–”

“I got a good deal,” Kurt says. “I mean, it is used, and apparently that’s not as popular a color.”

“It’s great.” Puck absently strums down the strings. “Just... wow.” He leans forward and cups Kurt’s cheek in his hand, kissing him slowly. “I mean, you bought me a fucking _Fender_.” Kurt just grins at him, pleased satisfaction written all over his face and in his body language. “And just for the record, despite the distinctive shape, there’s no way I would have guessed.”

Kurt giggles a little at that. “You might’ve!” he protests. He leans forward and kisses Puck again. “C’mon, let’s go before your sister sends out a search party.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, she would.” Kurt pulls a bag out of the closet and they head down the stairs, Kurt tilting his head a little at Finn’s closed door and shrugging.

When they arrive at the apartment, Hannah, Nana, and Rina are indeed already ensconced, Rina putting the finishing touches on the blintzes. “There’s my wayward grandson,” Nana snipes with a smile.

“I knew exactly where I was,” Puck protests as he gives her the obligatory hug. “Happy Hanukkah, Nana.”

“Happy Hanukkah,” she echoes, then moves straight to Kurt, enveloping him a hug just as she did the first day she met him. Luckily, Kurt’s less startled this time, clearly expecting the gesture. “I’m glad you brought your goyfriend,” she adds, cackling a little.

“Nana,” Puck looks at her, holding back a groan.

“Leave Noah and Kurt alone,” Rina says with a shake of her head. “Noah, help Hannah set the table? The blintzes are just about ready.”

Puck nods and hands the plates down to Hannah. “Not going to use your new ones?”

“I haven’t washed them yet!”

“You got new dishes?”

“Noah gave me some new plates last night,” Rina answers, nodding. “They’re very nice, but I wanted to wash them before we ate off of them.”

“They’re blue!” Hannah interjects as she claims the utensils from Puck’s head. “They’re really pretty. Kurt bought Mom a serving bowl that matches.”

“Oh, that does sound nice,” Nana agrees. They sit down around the table, Kurt between Puck and Hannah, and Puck squeezes Kurt’s hand as Rina serves the blintzes.

Hannah’s just as eager for presents as she was the first night, and possibly more so, since Nana is there, but she manages not to ask outright until after the table is cleared. “Now, Mom?”

“Yes, yes, all right,” Rina nods. “Let’s go into the living room.” Puck pulls Kurt close when they sit down, a little amused at how quiet Kurt is. He guesses he understands, though; Puck’s Nana is still something of an unknown variable, one who had Kurt and, in fact, the whole truth of Puck’s sexuality sprung on her less than a month before. And while Puck can read her fairly well, Kurt doesn’t have the same luxury. So Puck tightens his arm around Kurt’s waist and rests his head on Kurt’s should while his mom opens her presents. Kurt brought the serving plate that matches the dishes, and Puck hands her the third season of Survivor, and then it’s Puck’s turn to open presents, so he reluctantly straightens and releases Kurt.

Rina hands him a small box, which turns out to have a gift card for the movie theatre in it, and Puck grins and thanks her, then cuts his eyes over towards Kurt, who somehow manages to look utterly innocent. “Hannah’s turn,” Puck says before he can get himself in trouble, and Hannah grins and bounces in her seat.

“Yes! I’m opening Kurt’s first tonight,” she announces, and rips off the wrapping paper. “Oh, _cool_! Look, it’s a cookbook, Mom. I can cook dinner!” She doesn’t wait for a response before digging into the next present, some game or another for her DSi, and then she grabs Puck’s present and scowls at him.

“What?”

“You’re giving me an outfit in pieces again, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?”

“Cheater!” Hannah sticks her tongue out at Puck but holds the shirt up with a pleased expression despite her words.

“And now I have something for you and your brother both,” Nana comments, pointing to two relatively large packages that are up against the wall near the door to Puck’s room. “The white one is for you, Hannah, and Noah, the blue one is yours.”

“Who should go first?”

“Oh, open them at the same time, it doesn’t matter,” Nana answers, almost flippantly. Puck has a fair idea of what’s in them, so he opens his more slowly, and then Hannah screams.

“Nana! That’s so cool! It’s a Wii! With games! Thank you! Can we set it up right now, Mom?”

Puck laughs at the look on Hannah’s face as she can’t stop talking, and Kurt ends up nudging him to actually finish opening his. It’s not a surprise, and he can tell Kurt knows it, but it’s still awesome of his Nana and he thanks her profusely.

He’s not really surprised when Nana starts talking about Rina taking her back home soon, since she actually lives closer to Findlay than Lima, but he is surprised when Rina announces that Hannah’s coming with them, too, and they’re going to stop by the grocery store on the way home.

The door swings shut behind them pretty quickly, and Kurt tilts his head. “Did your mother essentially just inform us that we have an hour or so alone?”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, I think so. But I have to give you _your_ present now.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Kurt purses his lips. “Decisions, decisions.”

Puck stands and pulls Kurt to his feet, leading him towards Puck’s bed, where they curl up together and Puck hands Kurt a small box. “Remember,” Puck admonishes. “Good things come in small packages.”

“Really?” Kurt accepts the package with a raised eyebrow. “I rather like your large package.” He flicks his eyes downward and smirks.

“I thought I was supposed to be the crude one!”

“No, you’re actually the tortured, sensitive artist,” Kurt explains. “I’m the outspoken arrogant performer. Keep up!”

“Open your present,” Puck grumbles. “Or you’ll hurt my sensitive feelings.”

“All right,” Kurt acquiesces, pressing a soft kiss to Puck’s temple before sliding his finger under the paper and revealing a small box, which he quickly opens. “Oh, you!” he giggles.

“A lizard for my lizard,” Puck quips.

“It’s pretty!” Kurt exclaims. “Where on earth did you find a lizard pin, though?”

“It turns out you can find almost anything on this thing called the Internet.” Puck laughs as Kurt slaps at him playfully. “No, seriously. Etsy.”

“Everything is on Etsy,” Kurt muses, nodding as he runs his finger along the length of the pin. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a Fender,” Puck says self-deprecatingly, “but...”

“But nothing,” Kurt interrupts him firmly. “Isn’t the point of getting someone a gift that you’re thinking about them and what they like and what you want to give them?”

“Is this a trick question?” Puck grins a little. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I get the point, blue eyes.”

“Good.” Kurt sets the box carefully on the bedside table and then places his hands on either side of Puck’s face and pulls him into a deep kiss. Puck mirrors the movement, weaving his fingers through Kurt’s hair, and he parts his lips under Kurt’s.

When they slide apart, Puck rests his forehead on Kurt’s for a moment while he fumbles with unfastening Kurt’s pants and then sliding them down just enough to free Kurt’s cock. Puck captures Kurt’s lips again briefly as he runs his fingers slowly up and down Kurt’s length.

He pulls away again, this time moving to rest his cheek against the upper portion of Kurt’s thigh, his nose tickled by the dark curls clustered around the base of Kurt’s erection. Puck takes a deep breath, letting Kurt’s scent penetrate into his brain, then slowly flattens his tongue against the underside of Kurt’s cock and drags it upwards.

“God, baby,” Kurt purrs, his hand brushing over Puck’s head lightly. “That feels so nice, so good.” Puck grins a little and swirls his tongue around the tip, then takes the head into his mouth, sucking gently. He moves down, taking more of Kurt into his mouth, and wishes that he could go even farther, but the one thing he has learned over the past months is that he is _not_ one of those people with little to no gag reflex. He’s pretty sure it would be awesome if he was, because fuck. He loves this, loves the feel of Kurt’s cock filling his mouth, and he wants to just keep moving his lips closer and closer to the base, but he can’t, so he does the best he can. He lets his hand wrap around Kurt as he sucks, hollowing his cheeks and focusing on his self-appointed task.

Puck can feel his own answering erection straining almost painfully in his jeans, and he presses his other palm against it, rubbing up and down in a mostly futile effort to gain some relief. Kurt’s heavy and musky and thick, and Puck is beginning to taste the fluid leaking from the tip. It’s salty and Puck runs his tongue slowly across Kurt in search of more, savoring it as much as he does the cries and exclamations from above him. Kurt’s body is shaking a little, his hips twitching upwards as Kurt clearly fights to control his movements, and Puck just smiles as he twists his hand around Kurt’s cock and continues rubbing himself with increasing pressure.

“Puck, Puck, baby, yes,” Kurt’s voice manages to float through Puck’s fog of concentration when it changes to Puck’s name, over and over, and Puck can’t help but increase his speed in response. Kurt shudders once and that’s all the warning Puck has before Kurt’s coming, fluid filling Puck’s mouth as he sucks it down, tongue still laving at Kurt’s cock.

When he finally stops and leans up to push his tongue into Kurt’s mouth, he can feel Kurt’s hand replace his own, palm flat over Puck’s still rock-hard cock. Puck’s tongue continues plundering Kurt’s mouth and he strains into Kurt’s touch, rocking his hips as he feels Kurt’s fingers dig into the denim, curling around Puck and stroking with no small amount of force. Puck pulls his mouth away from Kurt’s, crying out as he comes with a final thrust into Kurt’s hand.

Kurt pulls Puck down on top of him, one hand gently smoothing Puck’s shirt, over and over, and Puck buries his face against Kurt’s neck, absently nipping at it periodically. “Mmm,” Kurt breathes after a long moment. “A week from now, we’re going to be in Chicago. In a hotel room. Where no one will be coming to interrupt us, and no one will be expecting either of us home at a certain time.”

“Is that Chicago or a wild fantasy?” Puck chuckles.

“It’d be a wild fantasy if it lasted more than just a few days,” Kurt responds with a sigh. “But it will be lovely while it does last.”

“Yeah it will,” Puck agrees. “So.” Puck rolls onto his side, facing Kurt. “I’m gonna do something in Chicago.” He didn’t actually know that was the plan until he said it, actually, but it sounds absolutely right, so he’ll go with it.

“Do something?” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Uh.” Puck wrinkles his nose a little. “I think it’s time to get rid of the ‘hawk.” Kurt tilts his head to the side, clearly considering Puck’s statement. “I just...I’m not going to go through life with a mohawk, I know that. And then it’s like, working backwards...” He shrugs. “It’s just time.”

“Okay,” Kurt says finally, with a shrug. “Is it okay if I’ll miss it a little, though?” he adds, smiling wryly.

“I’ll still be your studly badass,” Puck teases, and Kurt laughs.

“Oh, is that what you are?” Kurt asks archly.

“Hey!” Kurt keeps giggling as Puck protests and then starts to laugh himself. They settle back against each other, arms and legs intertwined, and Kurt’s eyes start to droop closed. “Don’t fall asleep, blue eyes,” Puck says softly. “You’re not exactly dressed and Mom and Hannah will show up again at some point.”

“That’s stupid,” Kurt proclaims with a sigh, but he opens his eyes. “So I think, despite the lack of vehicle in the driveway, that Finn might have been home this afternoon.”

Puck’s eyes widen a little. “Oops?”

Kurt snorts. “Yeah, oops. I didn’t even notice when we got home, but his bedroom door was closed and his boots were down near the door, so... yeah.”

“I feel like we should be embarrassed.”

“But?”

Puck shrugs. “I dunno. I’m not, really. Are you?”

“Not particularly,” Kurt admits. “It’s not like we knew he was there. Or that he was unaware of it.”

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty aware,” Puck laughs. He tightens his arms around Kurt. “I don’t want to take you home, but I kinda don’t want to be here when Mom and Hannah get back.”

Kurt nods. “Yeah.” He closes the distance between them and kisses Puck slowly and sweetly before pulling back and then standing, pulling his clothes fully on. “Tomorrow night?”

“Let’s go to the movie like we talked about ages ago, and never got to do,” Puck suggests. “We can leave Mom and Hannah’s presents here and head up or down 75 somewhere.”

“That sounds good,” Kurt agrees. “So you should take me home, and come back and spend time with your mom and Hannah tonight like a good boy.”

“I thought you knew by now that I wasn’t a good boy.” Puck sits on the edge of the bed and grins.

“Oh, no,” Kurt contradicts, leaning over him. “You’re the _best_ boy.”

 

When Kurt arrives home, he says a quick hello to his dad and Carole, sitting together in the living room, before heading up the stairs and rapping on Finn’s doorframe. Finn looks up from where he’s lying, belly down, on his bed, thumbing through the album from the previous night. His expression is morose. “Hey,” he says, sounding uncannily like Eeyore.

“Hi,” Kurt says lightly. “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure, come on,” Finn says, closing the album and pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Good Hanukkah tonight?”

“Puck’s Nana was there,” Kurt replies, a little amusement in his voice. “She’s a trip, as Dad would say.”

“So, what’d you give Puck tonight. More badass jewelry?” Finn props his head up on one hand and drums on the cover of the album with the fingers on the other hand.

Kurt sits down on Finn’s desk chair and snorts. “Not exactly. Not jewelry and quite a bit bigger.” He shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal. “I found a good deal on a refurbished Fender.”

Finn’s chin slips right off of his hand and he face plants right into the center of the album. He comes up sputtering, “You got him a _what_?”

“A Fender. You know. An electric guitar?”

“Dude, that is _not_ a little gift!”

“Well. No,” Kurt admits.

“That’s just...I mean...” Finn can’t seem to grasp whatever words he’s looking for.

“Impossible to wrap?” Kurt offers, grinning.

“That, too.”

“I didn’t. Wrap it, I mean. I just made him keep his eyes shut.” Kurt laughs. “Could you imagine?”

“Well, I’d put it in a king size pillow case and tie it with a ribbon,” Finn suggests.

“Would it fit, even with a king size?” Kurt frowns. “I don’t know. Puck was surprised, either way.”

“I bet.”

“Speaking of surprises,” Kurt says almost abruptly. “Were you home this afternoon?”

“Uh.” Finn cuts his eyes away from Kurt. “Um. What?”

“Just checking.” Kurt shrugs, Finn’s avoidance enough of an answer for him. “Everything okay with your truck?”

“Yeah, engine was knocking, so Burt said I could leave it with him,” Finn says, looking grateful to be moving on to a safe topic. “He gave me a lift back home.”

“Hmm, I didn’t notice it. But then I had that nice engine, so.”

“Yeah, I think I saw part of your coveralls sticking out,” Finn says, laughing. “I even said ‘hey, Kurt’ but seriously, you were, like, _into it_.”

“Sorry,” Kurt says almost sheepishly, and it’s that knowledge that embarrasses him more than the confirmation that Finn was home all afternoon.

“Eh, it’s, like, cute or whatever,” Finn says. “It’s cool that you know all that stuff. It defies expectations, right?”

“That’s apparently another one of my talents, defying expectations,” Kurt agrees, smiling a little.

“It’s good to have skills, bro,” Finn says. “Me with my leadership qualities and you with your expectations defyingness. We’re awesome.”

“Yes.” Kurt nods. “So what’d you give Rachel tonight?”

“I found this cool headband on Etsy. It was gold and had stars on it. Gold stars, right?” Finn grins. “I mean, it’s not a Fender or anything, but you know, gold stars are her thing, plus, ‘My Headband.’”

Kurt just groans a little at the last and shakes his head. “Well, I got a lizard from Etsy.”

“A live lizard?”

“No,” Kurt laughs, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out the box. He opens the lid and tilts it towards Finn. “See? A lizard.”

“Cool,” Finn says, with a little chuckle. “Aw, he’s so cute. He’s like ‘hey, lookit me, I’m a lizard!’” he adds in the same high-pitched voice he uses when he imitates Kurt, poking at the lizard pin.

“So basically you’re saying that I walk around saying ‘I’m a lizard!’, then,” Kurt says, bemused.

“Some things don’t even have to be said out loud to be true,” Finn answers, solemnly.

“If I shout it out in the middle of a glee rehearsal, please be aware that I will just point at you when Schue looks at me sternly.”

“Dude, I would pay actual money to see that happen,” Finn hoots. “You’d be all, ‘I’m on the right track, baby, I was _born a lizard!’_ ”

Kurt laughs. “Watch, then Brittany would bring in a heated rock for me or something.”

“Does that mean you shed your skin? ‘Cause, that would be gross.”

“Why do you think I spend so much time in the bathroom?” Kurt grins wickedly.

“Creepy, Kurt. Too creepy.”

“I guess you’ll just never know,” Kurt mock-sighs.

“Oddly enough, I’m totally ok with that,” Finn says.

“A lack of curiosity, tsk tsk,” Kurt shakes his head and stands. “Speaking of shedding my skin, I have to go prepare for that task.” He grins and walks towards the door. “Night, Finn.”

“Night, Lizard Boy. Good shedding. Happy Hanukkah,” Finn laughs.

 

Puck bites back a grin as Kurt walks to the Nav on Thursday afternoon, two bags in hand. "I didn't realize a movie required packing."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Very funny. Presents in one bag, a change of clothes in the other. Since you insisted it made more sense for both of us to change at your place."

"Well, it does," Puck argues, shrugging slightly. "Since you said you had to leave presents. Hannah's going to think I've let you get Santa mixed up in Hanukkah."

"Ha. Ha." Kurt sticks his tongue as they climb into the vehicle. "Hannah's going to think that I am wonderful for leaving her a gift."

"Yeah, that's probably true, too," Puck concedes. "Where do we want to go?"

"Troy and Bowling Green are about the same distance," Kurt says with a shrug. "I think the theatre in Bowling Green is a little cheaper, though."

"Okay." As they start to climb back out and head up towards Puck's apartment, he smirks. "We can always save time by showering together, you know."

"I'm pretty sure that it would be a savings in terms of water," Kurt retorts, holding the door open, "but not necessarily a savings in terms of time."

"You may be right," Puck concedes. "But then again, we want to be environmentally responsible."

"That is true." Kurt nods and smiles a little. "And it's tidy of us, too."

"Yeah, exactly," Puck says, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "Tidy and earth friendly. That's definitely what people think of, when they look at us."

Kurt snorts as he pulls two presents out of one of the bags and leaves them on the coffee table. "Oh, definitely." They walk into Puck's room and he pulls a third present out, handing it to Puck. "Your turn."

"Hold up," Puck admonishes, rummaging in his closet momentarily and pulling out a squishy package and handing it to Kurt. "You should have to open yours first today."

"Okay," Kurt agrees, quickly ripping off the paper. "You're determined to keep me warm!"

"Well, I do my best but I'm not really that much bigger than you," Puck grins.

"I like it," Kurt announces, settling the black and white throw blanket around his shoulders. " _Now_ , your turn."

"It's heavy," Puck comments, the wrapping discarded to reveal a cardboard box. "Did you put bricks in it?"

"Ooh, no, I should have," Kurt muses. "Next time."

Puck laughs. "You would." He shakes his head and opens the box up to find a slew of the Moleskine journals for music. "Oh, nice, K. Thanks."

"You've pretty much filled up the ones you have," Kurt points out. "I thought that might last you at least two or three months." He grins.

"I hope so," Puck agrees, setting them on his desk. "And now?"

"Now we can shower," Kurt agrees, starting to divest himself of the clothes he wore to work, and Puck does the same before they head into the bathroom and shut the door.

Puck pulls Kurt towards him with one hand and runs his thumb gently over Kurt's lips before leaning in and replacing his thumb with his lips. Kurt parts his lips immediately, his arms going around Puck's neck. Their bodies press together, skin to skin, and Puck's lips curve upwards against Kurt's, their tongues sliding against each other.

Puck brings a hand to rest on Kurt's ass, squeezing gently and then pulling Kurt's hips towards him as he rocks his own forward. Their erections collide perfectly, and Kurt's mouth falls further open as Puck repeats the motion with his hips.

Kurt pushes forward just enough to cause Puck to take a step back, colliding against the wall, and then Kurt leans against him, holding him there. Kurt pulls his lips away for a moment, then slowly works his way along Puck's jaw, teeth scraping lightly against Puck's skin. "Mine," Kurt breathes, and thrusts forward.

"Yeah," Puck nods and moves against Kurt. "Yeah." Kurt moves his mouth back to Puck's and settles into a steady motion, hips and tongues brushing each other, the friction steadily increasing. Puck focuses on the feel of Kurt's skin against his, the way Kurt's fingertips are brushing his scalp, the slightly rough drag as their cocks rub against each other, and the way Kurt tastes on his tongue.

Puck moves his hand, running it lightly up and down Kurt's back, pausing on Kurt's ass to pull him more tightly against Puck. Kurt's body stiffens just a little, holding himself in place against Puck, and Puck wraps both arms around Kurt's waist, unyielding. Puck jerks his hips forward and up slightly, his tongue deep in Kurt's mouth, and he feels Kurt start to hum and shudder at the same time his own body begins to shake, and then there's wet warmth filling the slight space between their chests, running together and holding them to each other.

"Now we shower?" Puck chuckles.

"Mmm, probably a good plan." Kurt pulls back and grins. "Don't you think?"

"I'm actually trying not to," Puck answers, pushing off from the wall and covering Kurt's mouth with his.

"I can be all right with that too," Kurt says as they pull apart and actually manage to step into the shower.

They manage to get out of the apartment by just a little after four, which is somewhat impressive in Puck's mind, and Kurt tosses him the keys as they hit the sidewalk. "I'll drive back, you have to get up earlier than I do."

"How late were you going to keep me out, Mr. Hummel?" Puck teases as they climb into the Nav and head towards 75.

"The real question is, am I going to return you or just keep you to myself?"

 

They're probably halfway to Bowling Green when Kurt's phone starts singing "Alejandro," and Puck is pretty sure it should disturb him both that he knows the name of the song as well as that he knows it means Mercedes is calling.

"Hello, 'Cedes," Kurt answers after a moment, turning the radio down. Puck can hear Mercedes' voice but can't make out the words. There's a long pause on Kurt's part while she speaks. "No, I can't tonight, or tomorrow." He sighs a little. "When are you leaving?"

There's another long pause, and Kurt raises his eyebrow slightly at Puck. "Saturday? I'm working most of the day, Dad wants to stay open late. Plus that's Christmas Eve." Another pause. "In the morning?" Kurt frowns. "I have to be at work at 11. I guess I could see if Dad would let me come in at 11:30 or something, and we could have coffee and then shop?"

Yet another pause while Mercedes is speaking, and Kurt slides his hand across the console and rests it on Puck's thigh, smiling at him. "Okay. Sure. 8:30 at Starbucks on Saturday. Bye, 'Cedes." Kurt ends the call and sets the phone down with a little sigh. "I'm not sure whether she wants to shop or gossip."

Puck snorts. "She can't multitask?"

"Good point," Kurt concedes.

When they get to the theatre, they make a snap decision to see one right away at matinee price, and go ahead and get tickets for a second movie later, after dinner, which is how they end up watching _New Year's Eve_ , then eating in the relatively small food court before going back to the theatre to see the _Sherlock Holmes_ movie after that.

Puck's not unobservant; sometimes Kurt seems to think that he's unaware of the looks they get, because towns like Troy and Bowling Green and even Dayton aren't exactly progressive. That's not why they go there; they go there just to be anonymous, something they never really are in Lima. But they get looks and sometimes there are muttered comments that they can't quite make out. Most of the time, Puck pretends not to see the looks, and Kurt does the same.

They've been lucky this time, though; Puck hasn't noticed any looks and Kurt hasn't stiffened even momentarily. So when they're leaving the theatre and Kurt's laughing, looking absolutely beautiful and delicious, Puck doesn't hesitate to bring their lips together, kissing him softly before pulling back.

"What was that for?" Kurt asks with a bewildered grin.

"Can't I kiss you if I want to?" Puck smirks in response.

"Absolutely," Kurt agrees as they continue walking out the door. Puck doesn't know why he looks to his left suddenly, but he does, and there's a girl, a kid, really, probably in eighth grade, making a disgusted face in their direction. He just shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and can't resist flipping her off for a second as he lets the door close. And for once? Kurt's the one who didn't see a thing.

Kurt drives them back to Lima, putting quiet music on the radio and telling Puck to fall asleep. It's earlier than he'd usually fall asleep, but then Kurt starts singing along softly with the music on the radio, and once they're out of the thriving town of Bowling Green, the darkness is nearly absolute, and Puck's eyes drift closed.

When he wakes up as the car stops, they're not outside the Hudmel house, but in the parking lot of Pat's. "Doughnuts?" he murmurs sleepily.

"Thought it'd be nice for now and in the morning both," Kurt answers, running his hand over Puck's head and dropping a kiss on his forehead. "I'll be right back."

"Don't forget the chocolate-chocolate ones," Puck mutters, letting his eyes close again.

Kurt laughs. "Don't worry, I won't forget your chocolate, baby."

Puck grins and keeps his eyes closed while he waits on Kurt to return, even though he's not going to go back to sleep until after he gets home, not at this point. Pat's isn't that busy, given the hour, and it doesn't take long for Kurt to return with two dozen doughnuts. "You want one now?" he asks, nudging the top box closer to Puck.

"Sure," Puck answers, straightening in the seat and taking the proffered box, flipping it open and snagging one of the doughnuts. "I'll have to hide the box in my room."

"Oh, I definitely will have to hide mine," Kurt laughs. "Otherwise Finn will sense them and all I'll find is a trail of crumbs and a battered box."

"It's like a fractured fairy tale." When they reach the Hudmel house, they both climb out and Puck gives Kurt a deep, thorough kiss when they meet in the front of the Nav. "Be good, blue eyes."

"Oh, baby, I'm always good." Kurt grins and Puck just shakes his head with an answering grin before climbing back into the Nav and heading home.

When he finally steps into his apartment, there's a single wrapped present on his bed, along with two notes.

 _Noah,_

 _Thank you for the additional plates, and please, thank Kurt for the serving bowl. Text me tomorrow and let me know if or when you'll be here tomorrow night, please._

 _Love,  
Mom_

 _Noah!_

 _I told you pieces was not cool. But the pants are awesome. Tell Kurt the rainbow bubble thing is awesome, too. Mom got me a really cool sweater._

 _THANKS!  
Hannah_

Puck snorts in amusement at the notes and opens the present, a gift card to Waffle House. He smiles a little and slips it into his wallet before stripping and crashing into bed. His phone vibrates just a second later.

 _Home now? Sweet dreams, baby. xx_

Puck smiles and types out a quick response before setting the phone down for the night.

 _Home safe. Always blue eyes xx_

 

Puck does leave two doughnuts each out for his mom and Hannah before he heads to work on Friday morning, and then the rest of the day proceeds like Wednesday did, except that they go to Kurt's house after work and stay there through dinner. It's almost like eating and running, because by the time they help clear the table, Hannah's used Rina's phone to text Puck four times, and Kurt twice.

"I think Hannah wants to open presents," Kurt comments, laughing.

"Yeah, just a bit," Puck agrees, following Kurt to the Nav. "She's going to be upset when she gets just one more piece of an outfit from me," he smirks.

"She's going to be unhappy that I suggested accessories for the outfit," Kurt laughs.

"Nah, you'll still be her favorite person."

"That's because she doesn't have to live with me."

"Eh, I don't know," Puck laughs.

Puck carries one of the packages upstairs while Kurt juggles the other two, and Hannah practically pounces on them as soon as they're inside. "Finally! Mom wouldn't let me open my gift from _her_ even! So I've been playing Wii," she adds. "Noah, are you going to set up your Xbox?"

"I guess, yeah, if we can hook them both up easily." Puck shrugs. "But not right now."

"No!" Hannah agrees. "Presents! Noah first tonight!"

"That's equitable of you," Puck snorts.

"What's equitable?" Hannah asks, then continues without waiting for answer. "Here, this is what Mom got you," she drops a present at Puck's feet, and Puck hopes that it wasn't breakable in any way. "Where's your present for Noah?" she demands, looking at Kurt.

"I was supposed to buy him something _else_?" Kurt asks, mock-appalled.

"I know you did," Hannah rolls her eyes. "You brought three presents."

"Okay, you're right," Kurt acknowledges, handing her one of the three, which she promptly deposits on Puck's lap just after he sits down.

"And here's mine for you!" Hannah proclaims at last. "Mom, come on!"

"Here I am," Rina emerges from the direction of her bedroom. "Noah's first tonight?"

"Yep!"

"Apparently," Puck shrugs, picking up the gift from Hannah and opening the envelope to find almost exactly what he'd expected: another coupon redeemable for Hannah doing his chores for one week. "Thanks, squirt."

"Just don't use them one right after the other!" she begs.

Puck laughs. "All right, if you insist." He picks up his mom's present, similar in size and feel to the one from the night before and opens it to find another gift card, this one to Panera. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome. I thought that you boys stopped there for lunch sometimes."

"Yeah, we do." Puck nods. "Cool."

"Now Kurt's!" Hannah interjects.

"I think I figured that out, Hannah," Puck sticks his tongue out at her and picks up the box from Kurt. There's a really soft reddish sweater inside it, and Puck's sure that there's something making it extraordinary, but all he really cares about is that it's soft and warm and Kurt picked it out for him, so he pulls it on over his shirt and leans over to kiss Kurt. "Thanks, K."

"You're welcome." Kurt tucks himself under Puck's arm while Rina opens her presents, bowls and a gravy boat, and then they watch Hannah discover another piece of the same outfit (this time a cardigan), a cooking game for her DSi, and the first season of _Good Eats_ from Kurt.

"Hannah, go ahead and take your new things to your room, please," Rina says after she's thanked all of them repeatedly, and Hannah bounces up to do so, the sound of her new DSi game filtering into the room a few minutes later. "Kurt, will you be here tomorrow night? Puck said something about you working late."

"Yes, I'll be working until about 7:30," Kurt nods. "Dad wants to stay open as a last-minute option for people traveling. I'd hate to make Hannah wait that long!"

Rina laughs. "I think she'll survive, Kurt." She shakes her head and picks up her new dishes, carting them into the kitchen, and Puck hands a box over to Kurt. It's not like Hannah and Rina can't watch Kurt open his gift, but it just seems to work out better somehow.

"For me?" Kurt feigns surprise.

"Well, if you don't want it," Puck laughs. "On second thought, if you don't want it, I don't know what else to do with it, so hopefully you do."

Kurt snorts and unwraps the box and grins. "How'd you manage to get Lush?"

"I told you, I gave Rachel a list," Puck grins. "Did I do good?"

"You did good," Kurt agrees, putting a hand on Puck's cheek and kissing him gently. The kiss starts out slow and soft, until Kurt's lips part and his tongue slides along Puck's lips. Kurt continues to deepen the kiss, his other hand curling around the back of Puck's neck, and they stay like that, Puck's hands resting lightly on Kurt's waist, continuing to kiss, until they hear Hannah bound back into the room. As they pull apart, Hannah makes a face at them.

"You two kiss a _lot_ ," she announces. "Don't you get tired of it?" She wrinkles her nose, clearly meaning to indicate she'd find it boring.

"No," Kurt answers her before Puck can say anything. "Not really."

Puck grins. "Yeah, what he said."

Hannah rolls her eyes and Puck thinks it's almost eerie how much Hannah looks like him sometimes. "Whatever. I'm going to play on my Wii now."

"I think that was a hint for us to leave," Puck says wryly to Kurt.

"I think so," Kurt nods, biting back a smile and standing as Puck pulls him up.

"Well, we know where we aren't wanted," Puck announces, pulling Kurt with him towards his room. "We'll just have to go in here and entertain ourselves."

"Eww, Mom, Noah's talking about kissing again!"

Puck and Kurt both start laughing at that, and Puck pushes the door mostly closed as Rina starts to respond.

 

Puck does expect to see Kurt a little before when he's supposed to meet Mercedes, but he's surprised when Kurt walks into the Starbucks more than thirty minutes early. "You're pretty early."

"The Nav's already here," Kurt says, amused. "I figured it would be a little hard to explain if Mercedes when I climbed out of Finn's truck."

"Oh, right." Puck snorts. "I forgot about that."

"Plus Finn had to be to work at eight," Kurt shrugs. "I haven't figured out how to get Mercedes to drive and to get her to drop me off at the shop instead of here, mind," Kurt continues with a sigh. "But I'll figure something out. Maybe I'll purposely have us running late."

Puck laughs. "Yeah, maybe that'll work." Kurt leans against the counter and they continue talking until Mercedes pushes in at twenty-five after, greeting Kurt exuberantly and giving Puck a small wave and quieter greeting.

"I'll have one of those salted caramel mochas," Mercedes grins at Puck. "The biggest size, please." Then she turns to Kurt. "Boo, did you know about Karofsky?" She shakes her head. "I still can't believe I didn't dream that." She looks at Puck. "What about you, Puck? Did you have any clue?"

"I didn't think we were supposed to talk about that outside of PFLAG," Puck says slowly, working on Mercedes' drink.

"It's just us," Mercedes shrugs. "What can it hurt?"

"Someone could overhear us," Kurt points out. "Not to mention that we're just _not supposed to talk about it_."

"Who?" Mercedes snorts.

"My manager's in the back," Puck offers, "and we have no idea who she knows or who those people over in the corner know. We don't know who else that person has told or who he wants to know. What right do we have to take that chance with someone else's life?"

"You're being overly dramatic," Mercedes says dismissively, taking her drink from him. "Don't you think so, Kurt?"

"No," Kurt shakes his head. "I don't. Puck's absolutely right." He accepts his own drink from Puck with a somewhat apologetic smile, letting their fingers brush together, and Puck waits just a beat too long before releasing it.

"Have fun, guys," Puck nods.

"Thanks," Kurt flashes him a grin over his shoulder as they exit the store, and Puck shakes his head, smiling wryly and holding his hand up in a wave.

 

"Ooh, you're so much closer," Kurt comments, spotting Mercedes' car just in front of the building. "I'll let you drive then."

Mercedes laughs. "Okay." They climb into the car and she flips on the radio. "You looking for anything in particular?"

Kurt shakes his head. "No, I have everything, thankfully."

"Oh, good, we can just browse," Mercedes nods. "Now, seriously, Kurt, did you not have any clue about Karofsky?"

"Mercedes." Kurt sighs. "I know no one can overhear us here, but we truly shouldn't be discussing it."

"What's it gonna hurt? It's not like we're gonna tell anyone who isn't in PLFAG. Just answer that one question for me, please, boo. Yes or no? I can't believe he did all that to you and then has the nerve to be all 'I'm gay.'"

Kurt sighs and makes an effort not to roll his eyes. "Yes, Mercedes, David's sexual orientation was a fact that I was indeed privy to. Why and for how long is immaterial. What he did in the past is largely immaterial as well; I have moved past it and obviously so has he."

Mercedes stops at a red light and looks over at Kurt, frowning. "Why didn't you ever tell anyone? I would have told _someone_. Especially if you knew back when he was still bullying you."

"It's not my place to out someone," Kurt says incredulously. "Why would I do that to him? To anyone?"

"I'm just saying, it had to be tempting," Mercedes shakes her head. "I guess you were right, there are more people staying quiet even in PFLAG. Who knows who'll be next?"

Kurt stifles an annoyed noise. He loves Mercedes. He does. But she doesn't understand, and he finds himself irrationally wishing that he was going shopping with Rachel or Tina instead.

 

Puck heads home right at 2:30, a little relieved that the Nav is still where he parked it that morning. He guesses Kurt figured out a way to get Mercedes to drop him off at the shop. When he gets home, he shoots Kurt a quick text before getting into the shower. Kurt's response comes through as Puck walks back into his bedroom.

 _It was ok. Dad says it may be eight so don't let your mom make Hannah wait. xx_

Puck snorts and stretches out on his bed.

 _Will do K. Don't work too hard xx_

Puck frowns and looks at the clock. Two-thirty. He walks over the computer and pulls up Facebook almost absently, then changes his status.

 _Bored Jew on Christmas Eve_

It doesn't take long before he has a response from Rachel.

 _Me too! I think I'm going to make Daddy help me make sufganiyot!_

Puck shakes his head. Yeah, he thinks he'll skip that. No one else responds, and not that many people are online, so Puck closes the window and decides to mess around with his new guitar and get a feel for it. He can probably pass hours that way, if he's honest about it.

Hannah does in fact come drag him out into the living room just after it gets dark, and they actually light the menorah and do presents before dinner. Puck had found Kurt's gifts left in the Nav, and Puck is going to have to have a talk with him about being the Hanukkah Armadillo.

Puck and Rina agree with a glance to let Hannah go first again, and she makes quick work of her gifts, a "Tasty Science in the Kitchen" kit from Rina, a fashion design kit from Kurt, and a hair thing for the same outfit from Puck himself. She makes a face at Puck and he just grins, getting up to hand Rina her presents, which are smaller bowls and another serving bowl.

Rina's present to Puck is pretty awesome, though, a gift card to Ikea for $100, and Puck puts it into his desk instead of his wallet. He snorts. That's what they have for New York so far: an Xbox and $100 at Ikea.

When Puck picks up Kurt, he's fairly exhausted, and he doesn't even change clothes before crawling onto Puck's bed and curling next to him. "'M tired," Kurt announces.

"I could tell," Puck says with a grin. "Too tired for a present?"

Kurt appears to actually consider the question before sighing and shaking his head. "No. Gimme."

"You and Hannah," Puck teases, handing him a box. "Here."

"Thanks," Kurt smiles, propping himself up a little and tearing off the paper. "Oh, Puck. I love it." He grins and fingers the inscription on the bracelet before slipping it on. "It's perfect." He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Etsy again?"

"Etsy," Puck agrees with a laugh.

"Well, it's an Etsy sort of night I guess," Kurt says then, handing Puck a small box.

"Oh?" Puck looks at the contents of the box confused. "Blue eyes?"

"It doesn't make any sense for us to keep swapping the same set of keys back and forth. Dad still has the valet key, but he never used the second set, so…" He shrugs. "The real present's the keychain."

"The keychain?" Puck looks at the small black leather pouch hanging on the keychain and unsnaps it, tilting the contents into his hand. A silver pick slides out, and Kurt reaches and turns it over, displaying the letters imprinted. "'Be Good,'" Puck reads out loud, then grins. "That's perfect." He drops the keychain and the pick back into the box and then slides his hand into Kurt's hair and tugs him into a deep kiss.

They lie on the bed for awhile, arms wrapped around each other and alternating between kissing and quiet murmuring, before Kurt frowns and looks at the clock. "You should take me home, baby." He buries his face in Puck's neck. "I don't want to move."

"I'm not on board with that plan either." Puck sighs and rests his cheek against Kurt's hair. "I'll come over after I change after work?"

Kurt nods. "Carole said we were going to eat lunch at a regular time. Okay. Just a few more days," he adds.

"Yeah." Puck sits up slowly as Kurt does the same. "I can't wait."

"Me either."

 

Kurt has approximately five seconds between the time that he is fully asleep and the moment when his brother’s words permeate his brain and begin to make sense.

“Kurt. _Kurt_. **Kurt!** ” Finn flings himself onto Kurt’s bed, causing it to rock and creak. “Get up, dude. You’ve gotta get up. Presents, Kurt. Pressssssennnnts!”

“Are they on fire?” Kurt asks, brushing his hair off his face and squinting at Finn.

“On fire _for you to open them_ , Kurt,” Finn answers, hopping up and down on his knees on Kurt’s mattress.

“Now that you’ve properly anthropomorphized the presents,” Kurt shakes his head, “I suppose I have no choice.” He pushes himself into a sitting position. “Are Dad and Carole up?”

“Mom’s been up for ages, since just after I got up,” Finn grins. “We’ve had coffee and Christmas cookies. Your dad hasn’t been up long, but he’s more up than you, so up! Up! Get up! Mom says no presents until you’re down there.”

“Finn, it’s only seven in the morning.” Kurt shakes his head and swings his legs off the side of the bed, jamming his feet into his slippers and grabbing his robe off the desk chair. “Why don’t I remember this insanity from last year? I must’ve blocked it from my traumatized brain.” He shakes his head. “All right, lead the way.”

“Last year you were at Dalton and it was all _BlaineBlaineBlaine_ ,” Finn says. “This year you can focus on the awesome. Like presents.”

“See? Traumatized,” Kurt concludes, following Finn down the stairs with a yawn.

“Mom!” Finn yells, as he stomps down the stairs, unnecessarily loudly, Kurt thinks. “He’s up! Let’s start making piles!”

“Morning, Dad, Carole,” Kurt calls, not nearly at the same volume as Finn. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” Carole does sound like she’s been awake for ages. “Coffee, sweetie?”

“Please.”

“I’ll get it! It’s Christmas coffee!” Finn says at full volume. “The nutty caramely kind!”

“Does it sing ‘Rudolph’?” Kurt can’t help but ask as he sits down on the sofa.

“Your _face_ sings ‘Rudolph,’” Finn shouts from the kitchen.

“Only when I tell it to.” Kurt turns to Burt, who’s remained silent. “You look about how I feel.”

“Rudolph, the hot cup of coffee!” Finn sings, handing Kurt a mug. “Now presents!”

“Let’s see,” Carole beams. “These two are for you and Kurt, Finn,” she starts, handing two identical-shaped gifts to Finn, who places one in front of himself, and one in front of Kurt.

“To start the piles,” he explains to Kurt.

Kurt just nods and sips his coffee, which is in fact flavored, though Kurt’s not sure he would call it “Christmas” flavor. Carole goes through the presents with a crisp efficiency, calling out the recipient and handing each package to Finn as she does so.

“That one looks good,” Finn occasionally remarks, as he sets a gift on someone’s pile. “Oh, I wonder what that is!”

“That’s all of them!” Carole announces before too long.

“So, who goes first in this whole business?” Burt asks, gesturing at the piles. “Finn, I think you went first last year, right?”

Finn nods, like this is the most serious business _ever_. “That means it’s Kurt’s turn. Youngest to oldest seems fair. Mom can go first next year.”

“All right.” Kurt picks up one of the gifts and reads the tag. “To Kurt. Oh, good. From Dad and Carole. Also good; it would be confusing if someone else snuck into our house and left presents.” It’s a light package, and Kurt swiftly unwraps it to reveal a prepaid Visa giftcard. “Oooh, thank you,” he grins.

“You’re welcome,” Burt answers, gruffly. “Don’t spend it all on, I dunno, whatever it is I’m supposed to tell you kids not to spend it all on these days. That’s for college, not Chicago.”

Kurt just nods quickly. “Of course.”

“Your turn, mom!”

Carole picks up the smaller of the two boxes in front of her and Kurt exchanges a quick grin with Finn as she reads the tag as she slides her finger under the paper on the bottom. “From Finn and Kurt, oh, you two!” She cracks the lid of the box and catches her breath. “Oh, it’s lovely.” She lifts the necklace out of the box and shows it to Burt. “Look, honey.”

“That’s a pretty necklace,” Burt says.

“It’s a mother’s necklace,” Finn says, smiling proudly. “Those are our birthstones, mine and Kurt’s.” He points to the topaz and pearl in turn. “And you can add more, if, you know, you wanted to add...somebody’s significant somebody someday. Or, like, grandkids.”

“Huh. Well, that’s real thoughtful, Finn, Kurt,” Burt answers.

“I think it’s your turn, Dad,” Kurt says, gesturing to the larger box at Burt’s feet.

Burt picks up the gift and shakes it dramatically. “Wonder what this could be?” He turns the box over in his lap, picks it up and inspects it from different angles, all while Finn flails and falls out on the floor in anticipation. “It’s heavy.”

“Open it, sweetie!” Carole looks as excited as Finn, even though she doesn’t know what’s in it. Kurt’s sure that they could give Hannah a run for her money.

“Okay, okay, geez,” Burt pretends to bluster. “I swear, you guys are the bossiest Christmasers I’ve ever met.” He rips the paper off tand takes a moment to look at the plain brown box, while Finn returns to flailing and groaning. Burt snorts a laugh and opens the box, pulling out the personalized garage clock. “Aw, look, honey! They personalized it! ‘Hummel Tire and Lube,’” he says, holding up the clock.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful!” Carole claps her hands together. “You boys are just so sweet!”

“Now me!” Finn says, and it’s not a squeal, but almost. “I’ll open the huge one.” He tears unceremoniously into the paper and opens the box. Inside is a heavy sweater, a fleece-lined flannel shirt, lined heavy-duty waterproof winter hat and gloves, and a thick grey scarf. “Hey, this is really nice! Thanks, Mom, Burt!” He wraps the scarf around his neck. It’s a nice accent to his red flannel pajamas with the green Christmas trees, and Kurt is sorely tempted to snap a picture, but manages not to do so.

“My turn again?”

“Yes,” Carole nods, and Kurt picks up the present that proclaims itself to be from Finn, in terms of the writing, the words, and the wrapping paper.

Kurt pulls the paper off to reveal a plain, unassuming box, utterly unlike the exterior wrappings, and then removes the lid. He tilts his head a little and fingers the fabric for a brief second before understanding floods his face, and he looks up at Finn and grins. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Finn says, also grinning. “Figured you needed as many layers as possible, lizard boy.”

Kurt laughs. “Probably so.”

“My turn again!” Carole picks up the remaining box, reading the tag silently and shooting a smile at Burt. Kurt’s eyes widen suddenly and he looks at Finn, alarmed. Finn’s eyes widen and he shakes his head a little. Kurt decides the best course of action is to not look directly at anyone while Carole rips into the paper and removes the lid. Kurt’s busy cataloging the ornaments on the left-hand side of the chair, while Finn picks at invisible lint on the carpet. Carole exclaims “Oh!” and then scrambles for the lid, which is all that Kurt needs to know. “Thank you, Burt,” she says after a moment, replacing the lid firmly and setting the box to the side.

“I thought it’d be festive,” Burt says, raising and lowering his eyebrows a few times. Finn makes that choking sound that Kurt normally hears when he and Puck are needling Finn, but for once, Kurt agrees one hundred percent.

“So! What do you have there, Dad?” Kurt says a little too loudly, pointing at Burt’s remaining gift. He can hear Finn muttering “oh my god pink bag jesus christ” just loud enough for Kurt to hear it but not Burt or Carole.

“These are really nice shirts, honey,” Burt responds, also a little loudly.

“I thought you needed some new ones,” Carole nods. “You need to look your best, after all.”

“It’s all about professionalism,” Burt nods. “That’s why they come to Hummel Tire & Lube,” he adds, with a gesture to his new clock.

“Me again!” Finn says, clapping his hands. “This one is from Kurt.” He unwraps it a little more carefully than his previous gift. “Oh, dude!” Finn exclaims, holding up the wireless headphones. “That is sweet! I needed those! The cords are always too short.” Something else falls out of the box, and Finn leans over to pick it up. He turns it over in his hand for a minute and then looks up at Kurt with suspiciously watery eyes. “Dude,” he says, grabbing Kurt into a massive Finn hug.

“What is it?” Carole asks, but Kurt has no hope of answering, smothered in Finn’s enthusiasm. Finn finally releases Kurt, sniffling a little, and hands Carole the pin, which has a picture of a happy waffle and pancake over the worlds “brothers from another mother.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Carole says, pressing her free hand to her chest. “That’s so nice, Kurt.” She exchanges a happy glance with Burt. “Now, those two that are left, you should open at the same time, all right?”

“Is it a puppy?” Finn asks.

“I think the puppy would die,” Kurt says, picking up his own box, and examining it. “No air holes.” It’s definitely a box, but it almost looks like a large, not too terribly thick book.

“It could be a certificate for a puppy,” Finn argues, but positions the box for synchronized opening. “On three?”

“Sure,” Kurt nods, but he knows that Finn will inevitably open his faster. “One. Two. Three.”

Shreds of paper fly and then Finn exclaims, ‘Oh holy _crap_ , guys!” He holds up the iPad box. “You, too?” he asks Kurt.

Kurt nods, grinning, though most of the paper is still around all but the top of the box. “Yes! This is awesome!” He pulls off a little more of the paper to reveal the cover in its box underneath. “Oh, what color is yours?”

“Red,” Finn says, removing it from the box. “This is just so awesome. Seriously, thank you mom, thank you da-uh, Burt.”

“Yes, thank you,” Kurt echoes him quickly, pulling out his own camel-colored cover.

“Well, we heard there’s lots of helpful stuff you can use for college on those things,” Burt says, trying to hide his pleasure at the enthusiastic reaction to the gifts.

 

Puck’s ready to leave work by the time two-thirty rolls around on Christmas. He knows why they’re open; the enthusiasm of the hospital workers and people visiting relatives tells him that. It’s still much slower than usual and he’s relieved to take off the apron and head towards the Nav.

His mom and Hannah are already out of the apartment when he gets there, because Hannah really wanted to see some new animated movie. Puck takes a shower and pulls on clothes that don’t smell like coffee and heads back down the stairs, eager to get over to the Hudmel house and see whatever it is that Kurt was so excited about that he couldn’t compose a text beyond ‘Wait until you see!’

It’s weird to actually go to the front door and knock, but he doesn’t actually manage to knock before Kurt opens the door and pulls him inside. “Is anyone at your place?” he whispers, and Puck manages a confused shake of his head. “Good.” He raises his voice. “I’m leaving now, Dad!”

There’s a muffed acknowledgment from deeper in the house, and Kurt picks up a bag in the entryway and opens the door again, pulling Puck outside with him. “What are we doing?” Puck manages.

“Well, everyone’s going to be home all day today–Rachel came over, and I think she’s interrogating Finn about Christmas traditions–and I thought we should take advantage of it if no one is at your place, even temporarily. Before we do anything else.”

Puck shrugs and gets back in the Nav, Kurt driving this time, because it makes sense, and also because he doesn’t really want to listen to Rachel ask about Christmas, either.

“How was work?”

“Sloooow. You going to let me in on your gift now?”

Kurt laughs. “Dad and Carole got Finn and I both iPads! I didn’t expect anything _near_ that, especially after I got the laptop for my birthday.”

“Cool.” Puck grins. “How’re you going to tell them apart?”

“Oh, they got Finn the red cover and mine’s the camel-colored one. Also mine is already passcode-protected and somehow I doubt Finn’s gotten that far.” Kurt grins wryly. “Plus, I suspect once we each have apps on there, they’ll look quite different.”

“Good point,” Puck acknowledges.

“And oh, good god. Dad gave Carole the,” Kurt gestures with a choked look on his face, “in front of us! And made a crack about it being _festive_.”

“I hate to be the one to point it out, K, but you and your dad are clearly quite a bit alike.” Puck smirks. “Why did you drag us out of your house and towards mine so quickly, again?”

Kurt sort of gapes at Puck for a moment as he pulls into a parking spot. “I... That’s...But.” He bites his lip and glares at Puck for a moment. “I am not sure what to think about that,” he finally says stiffly, and it takes everything Puck has not to burst into laughter.

“C’mon, blue eyes,” Puck climbs out, grinning. “Just, uh. Be glad your dad has someone, or something like that.”

“Right.” Kurt sighs and shakes his head, but as they walk up the stairs, his hand finds Puck’s, squeezing it tightly.

The apartment is still quiet, and Puck’s not sure how long they have, so he puts the chain on the door, figuring that would buy them a little time, if necessary. That done, he follows Kurt towards the bedroom before pulling him into a deep, slow kiss. He wraps his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, holding him in place, and Kurt’s hands slide to Puck’s waist, then under his sweatshirt.

Kurt’s fingers trail up Puck’s chest, their touch light, and Kurt flicks a thumb over both Puck’s nipples simultaneously, causing Puck to open his mouth further under Kurt’s. Kurt takes immediate advantage of the change and Puck’s pretty sure that was his intention the entire time. Puck pulls away long enough to remove his clothes, eyes fixed on Kurt as he does the same. They land on the bed, hands moving rapidly over each other, and Puck moves his lips up Kurt’s cheek, nibbling on his earlobe and kissing behind Kurt’s ear before whispering into it.

“I want inside you, blue eyes.”

Kurt’s answering nod is immediate. “Please,” he adds after a moment, voice already a little strained.

Puck takes his time preparing Kurt, slowly adding a second and then a third finger, his other hand cupping Kurt’s balls gently and his mouth teasing alternately at the tip and the base of Kurt’s cock. By the time Puck finally positions himself and slides in, Kurt’s head is thrown back, eyes closed, and he’s begging and pleading with Puck, ‘please’ and ‘now’ and indecipherable noises in a steady stream. “Please what?” Puck teases, barely keeping his own voice steady.

“Please I need you to move now,” Kurt answers in a strained rush, his body taut, and Puck bends over, kissing Kurt hard, before he does as Kurt asks, pumping in and out of Kurt with careful, deliberate movements, one hand stroking Kurt’s cock equally carefully.

Kurt’s hips rock towards him and they move together, Puck’s gaze fixed on Kurt as he bites his lips, futilely trying to hold back the sounds escaping from his mouth. Puck’s sure that Kurt’s not going to last long, his erection already leaking steadily under Puck’s thumb, and he increases his tempo, changes the angle of their bodies, and then leans down, voice low. “Come for me, blue eyes.”

Kurt’s only answer is a jerk of his hips and a loud keen before he clenches around Puck and explodes into Puck’s hand. Puck thrusts into Kurt, both hands now on Kurt’s hips, pulling him closer, and then he comes as well, filling Kurt as he shakes and cries out Kurt’s name.

After a few moments, Puck pulls the sheets over them and hands Kurt his present for the day, lying back on his side to watch Kurt open it. “It’s light,” Kurt remarks, turning it over once in his hand before opening it up. “Ooh, it’s beautiful.”

“I have no idea if it’s going to match any of your other purple stuff,” Puck admits. “‘Cause I know you talk about different shades and clashing and matching and all that. But I thought it was nice.”

“It is,” Kurt agrees, smiling happily and draping the scarf around his neck. It’s an amusing look, since it’s the only thing he’s wearing. “And even if it doesn’t–which I think it will–purple’s a good accent color.”

“Okay,” Puck nods, and he figures in another couple of years, he’s going to have absorbed enough from Kurt to give out fashion advice, but for now, he’ll just take Kurt’s word for it.

Kurt rolls to the side and grabs a package from the floor, plopping it on the bed between them with a smile. “I did _try_ to be practical, a bit,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “Anyway.”

Puck opens the box curiously, discarding the wrapping back over his shoulder into the floor, and the lid follows after a few more seconds. “K, damn.” Puck’s not stupid; even with a really good deal, the leather coat in the box had to cost a lot.

“You like it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck assures him, pulling it out.

“It’s lined with wool and it should be warm enough for next winter,” Kurt says almost absently. “I don’t think I’d wear it to school, though. Slushie proof it’s probably not.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, probably not.” He sits up to pull it on, and it strikes him that between the two of them, they look a little strange.

“Oh good,” Kurt comments, tugging on the collar a little. “I was right.”

“Right?”

“I thought this style would be a good one for you.” He grins. “See, we’re not totally unprepared for New York.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, we have some gift cards, an Xbox, a coat, and a throw blanket.”

Kurt giggles at the list. “Okay, but we have seven or eight months still. It’s a start.”

“It is.” They stay in the bed, in their ridiculous semi-clothed state, until Puck hears a rattle outside the apartment door and he bolts upright, shedding the coat and grabbing his jeans from the floor. “Shit.”

“Is that...?”

Puck nods and pulls on his wifebeater before heading into the living room, shutting the bedroom door behind him. He slides the chain lock off just as his mom unlocks the door, and seconds later, Hannah bursts in.

“Hi Noah!”

“Hey squirt. How was the movie?”

“It was awesome! Are you going to go see a movie?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna grab some food and go see _We Bought A Zoo_ ,” Puck responds. “Presents are already on the coffee table,” he adds, knowing Hannah will want to know, even if she refrains from asking.

“Cool!” Hannah runs off to her room after examining the boxes, and Puck turns to his mom, who’s remained silent.

“Kurt’s here?”

“Ah, yeah,” Puck runs his hand over his mohawk and shuffles in place.

“Mmm,” Rina hums for a second. “Are you two coming back here after you watch the movie?”

“Yeah, I figured we’d grab take-out and watch a DVD.”

“All right.” Rina sighs a little. “Have fun, Noah.”

“‘Kay.” Puck watches Rina walk back towards her room, and he returns to his room with a shrug. Kurt’s gotten redressed while Puck was gone, and while he’d been almost monochromatic, he’s still got his new scarf around his neck, this time tied and tucked into the neck of his shirt, the purple bright against the tan or beige or whatever color his shirt and cardigan and pants are.

Puck realizes Kurt’s been rummaging in his closet when Kurt tosses a shirt at him, which he shrugs on and buttons up as Kurt makes a comment about color coordination versus matching. Kurt tilts his head a little and motions for Puck to pull his coat back on, then pulls Puck’s hat on him and steps back. “Turn around,” he orders, and Puck spins in place to look in the mirror.

And yeah, he gets it suddenly, because even though none of what he’s wearing alone is all that different from how he’s been dressing since he stopped worrying about if his clothes were gonna make him look ‘too gay,’ but the combined effect is like a different person’s looking at him, and it’s a little startling.

“No Midwestern boy left in that outfit,” Kurt says softly, and Puck nods. Kurt squeezes his hand. “Now, you were going to show me a proper Jewish Christmas?” he asks, voice back a normal volume.

“You bet.” Puck grins. “First stop is Thai food. Bangkok Bay, ‘cause Thai Jasmin _is_ closed on Christmas, weirdly enough.”

“Stealth Christians.”

Puck snorts as they clatter down the staircase. “Yeah, probably.”

The restaurant is more or less deserted, as Puck expects, and then they head to the movie theatre, which is much more crowded. After the movie ends, Kurt looks at Puck inquiringly. “What’s next?”

“Next is Chinese take-out and a DVD back at home.”

“Okay.”

A huge bag of take-out later, they’re ensconced in front of the TV in Puck’s living room. Hannah’s thanked them for their gifts (another part of her outfit, and a sweater Kurt found that was pronounced ‘adorable’ by Hannah and ‘appropriate’ by Puck), and Puck’s opened up the gift from his mom to find another gift card, this one to Wendy’s. “And now we embrace the societal approval of Christian holidays above all others–and watch _Love Actually_.”

Kurt grins and grabs the container in front of him, then tucks his left arm around Puck. “Excellent.”

 

"Yo, Puckerman!"

Puck looks up and snorts. "Yo, Lopez. You're up early for the morning after Christmas."

"Yeah, well, my mom's dragging us to go visit my brother." She rolls her eyes. "Where's your other half?"

Puck looks her with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"That Navigator's kind of distinctive, you know?"

"Ah." Puck purses his lips and starts fixing Santana's drink. "There could be more than one black Nav in Lima."

"With those rims and an HRC magnet? Presumably chosen because most of this town doesn't have a clue what it means." Santana shakes her head. "Try another one. What, is he hidden behind the counter sucking you off."

Puck glares at her as he slides her drink across the counter. "You're hysterical," he says flatly.

"You're acting weird," she counters with a shrug. "Seriously, where is he?"

"What time is it?"

"Just past 7:30."

"Then he's at Burt's shop, working."

"But the Nav is here."

"Yep." Now Puck smiles, enjoying the look of confusion on Santana's face.

"How'd it get here?"

"Well, there's this thing called driving. You put the key in the ignition, for starters, and then–"

"Oh, shut up," Santana rolls her eyes. "Why'd he drive the Nav here? And how'd he get to work?"

"He didn't, and he rode with Burt."

"Then how…" She trails off and grins suddenly, shaking her head. "Holy shit. He lets you drive the Nav?" Puck just smirks at her. "Damn, that would out you for sure."

Puck rolls his eyes. "Yes, thank you Finn."

"Ha. Ha." Santana levels a glare at him. "You have this entire secret life, don't you? Just hidden from your real everyday life."

"Actually…" Puck shrugs. "I tend to think of it as the real one."

"Touche." Santana shakes her head. "You two coming on Saturday night?"

"Yeah, we should be back." Puck wants to bite back the words as soon as he says them.

"Back?" She looks at him not unlike an interesting specimen. "Back from where?"

"None of your business," Puck smiles. "Have fun."

"Yeah, yeah." Santana rolls her eyes. "Later, Puckerman."

Puck's encounter with Santana is the most interesting portion of his Monday morning, by far, and somehow the hours seem to drag more than before, now that they're so close to Wednesday and leaving. He goes over to Ray's after work, because his mom left a note on the apartment door with a request and a list, and by the time he gets back home and changes, it's past 3:30. He sighs and trots back down the stairs to the Nav, hopeful that he won't run into any other roadblock on the very short drive to the shop.

Kurt's waiting just inside the door and springs up as soon as Puck pulls in. "Sorry," Puck apologizes. "Mom wanted me to go to the grocery store."

"Not a problem," Kurt assures him. "I just finished about five minutes ago."

"Busy day?"

"Yeah." They pull into the Hudmel driveway and head inside, and Puck notes that Finn's truck is there. "Busy enough, anyway," Kurt amends, "that I didn't have to spend any time in the office."

Puck snorts. "Yeah, I know you love those days." He slides his shoes off inside the door and follows Kurt up the stairs. "I told Mom we wouldn't be there tonight. _I_ need a break from Hanukkah still."

Kurt laughs as they walk into his room and he strips off the long-sleeved t-shirt and worn out jeans he wears under his coveralls at the shop. "A few too many nights?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Most of the time it's not while we're on break from school, so it's not like the 24-7 Hanukkah channel." Puck flops on the bed and watches Kurt walk around in his underwear, pulling clothes out of drawers and his closet before he starts to put any of it on. Puck can't help but sigh a little as Kurt's skin slowly disappears under the various pieces of fabric, but then he's done, and looking at fully dressed Kurt is pretty awesome, too, just a different kind of awesome.

"See something you like?" Kurt's voice interrupts his musings, and Puck smiles, dragging his eyes over Kurt again.

"Yep," Puck agrees with a nod. "I do." Kurt's wearing some tight grey jeans, a white shirt, and a skinny grey tie, with a black v-neck sweater over all of it, and yeah, Puck has the hottest boyfriend ever. There's a part of his mind which is probably really juvenile but likes do to a little mental victory dance about that, from time to time.

"You know where a boy like me can find a nice boy to accompany me to dinner?"

"A _nice_ boy?" Puck shakes his head. "But if you can handle a boy like me instead…"

"Oh, I think I might like that even better." Kurt's lips curve upwards and he steps towards the bed. "I hear that nice boys might be overrated."

Puck reaches up and wraps his fingers with Kurt's and grins. "I'm sure that they are." He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and sits up, tugging Kurt close until Kurt finally loses his balance and falls onto Puck. Puck's other arm wraps around Kurt immediately and it doesn't take him long to fix his mouth onto Kurt's and slowly lie them back across the bed.

Kurt brings his knees up on either side of Puck's thighs and pushes himself up just enough so that he's leaning over Puck, not lying on him. Kurt's tongue pushes into Puck's mouth, insistent, and Puck moves his hand from Kurt's waist to Kurt's ass, squeezing it gently. He thinks it's a shame Kurt just put his clothes on, because Puck would like to help him out of them, and he squeezes Kurt's hand before moving his own hand to the front of Kurt's jeans.

Puck presses his palm against Kurt's rapidly hardening cock, running his hand up and down as their tongues move together. It's at that unfortunate moment that Finn barges in, one of Kurt's hands on Puck's head, their mouths fused together, and Puck's hands on Kurt's ass and cock both.

“So what time are you guys—Oh my God—DOORS, they make DOORS, dude,” Finn sputters. “Oh holy hell—DOORS, dudes.” He quickly scrambles out of the room and slamming Kurt’s behind him. They can hear his door slam shortly after.

Kurt sort of scrambles off Puck, which is sort of disappointing, since Finn _did_ apparently go to the trouble to close the door for them. He guesses he can see the point in Kurt’s mind, though, so he sits up and then stands, following Kurt out of the room.

“Finn?” Kurt asks when he gets into the hall.

“I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING!” Finn hollers through his door. “GO ON ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS. BEHIND A DOOR.”

“What did you need?” Kurt asks calmly, standing next to Finn’s bedroom door and looking for all the world like absolutely nothing untoward has happened.

Finn obviously comes up to the door, because his voice is lower, but still _through_ the door. “I just wanted to know what time you were leaving for Chicago. I know you guys... _you know_. Tuesday. I just thought maybe, since you were gonna be gone, we could catch a movie or play some Motorsport, or something.”

“Well.” Kurt exchanges a look with Puck, raising one eyebrow, and Puck shrugs and nods. “We didn’t have anything planned tonight.”

“Let me know when I’m allowed to come out of my room,” Finn says through his door. “I’ll let you kick my ass in Motorsport.”

“We were gonna go grab some dinner, dude,” Puck interjects. “You eaten?”

“No.”

“Do you want to come with us?” Kurt asks patiently.

“Not Joey’s.”

“What’s wrong with Joey’s? I mean, I don’t think we were going there, but.”

“Dude. _Dude_.” Finn says, still though his door. “Think about it.”

Puck looks over at Kurt, who’s shaking with silent laughter, his lips pressed together, and Puck snorts back a laugh of his own. “Yeah, fine, whatever,” he says after a moment. “What _do_ you want?”

“Tacos? I suddenly have a craving for tacos.”

“Taco Bell tacos or real Mexican food tacos?”

“Real.” There’s a pause. “Everybody’s dressed, right? ‘Cause my door smells sorta weird and I’m tired of talking to it.”

“We’ve been dressed, Finn,” Kurt sighs. “The coast is clear, et cetera.”

The door creaks open about an inch, revealing a sliver of Finn’s face, suspicious eyeball peeking at them. “Ok, phew.” He opens the door the rest of the way.

“Welcome back,” Puck says dryly.

“Dude.”

“Come on,” Kurt shakes his head ruefully. “I think Monday is the day they have the free all you can eat chips and salsa at La Parilla.”

“I love all I can eat,” Finn grins. “I can eat _all_ , man. ALL.”

“Good for you!” Kurt says in a chipper voice, leading the three of them down the stairs. “Except you have to share _all_ with us.”

“I dunno, man. I think I might need to eat _all_ the chips. I’ve been traumatized. More than normal, even. I mean, it’s like, volume versus 3D vision.”

“Did you already have to return the glasses? I keep meaning to steal a pair,” Puck comments, smirking as they walk through the garage. Finn just looks at him, confused.

“It’s okay, you owed me,” Kurt says airily. “You didn’t realize it, but you did.”

“What?”

Kurt just smiles angelically and unlocks the Nav, climbing into the driver’s seat. Puck shrugs and sits down as well. “I dunno, dude.”

 

Finn does his best to eat all the chips, but Puck and Kurt manage to snag a good share of them, too. Puck thinks Finn tries a couple of more times to call them out on what he walked in on, but he’s not sure, and he really can’t be bothered to care. Yeah, he likes his boyfriend’s ass. And cock. And lips. Okay, so he just really likes his boyfriend.

The bonus to going out to eat in Lima with Finn is that when there’s three of them, two of them have to share a side of the booth, which is an excuse for Puck to sit next to Kurt and wrap his leg around Kurt’s and generally be obnoxious, at least under the table and hidden from view.

They commandeer the television when they get back to the Hudmel house and Kurt proceeds to hand Finn and Puck both their asses on a silver platter. Kurt’s not a poor sport, but the gleam in his eye when he wins, combined with his utter refusal to play _Call of Duty_ and its ilk makes Puck wonder if he actually dislikes them, or if he just can’t win at them.

Eventually even Kurt appears to get tired of winning repeatedly, and he takes Puck’s hand and goes up the stairs to the bedroom. “You still have to open your present for today,” Kurt points out, setting a large but light box on Puck’s lap after he sits on the bed.

“So do you,” Puck points out, gesturing to the shiny envelope that’s sitting on Kurt’s dresser.

“You go first.”

“Okay.” Puck shrugs and rips off the paper, then chuckles. “Now we have something else for New York.”

“Probably shouldn’t tell them what exactly it’s for.”

“Wall cabinets are very handy for lots of things,” Puck smirks. “I’m sure of it. We just don’t have to elaborate on what specifically _we_ have in mind.”

“True.” Kurt grins and picks up the envelope in front of him. Puck didn’t exactly seal it except in the middle, so Kurt gets it open easily and unfolds the paper, giggling as he reads it. “You know better than to pick for me, hmm?”

“I may have done okay with the scarf, but there’s no way I could get as much for $60 as you. Plus you’ll enjoy spending it more.”

“That’s true,” Kurt nods.

“And, well.” Puck shrugs.

“Well, what?”

Puck grimaces a little, because he still thinks it’s kind of lame to admit. “I’ll enjoy watching you spend it.”

Kurt stops for a long moment, stock-still, staring at Puck without blinking, and Puck starts to worry that he’s said something wrong, or that even Kurt thinks it’s stupid and lame, but then Kurt sort of _attacks_ him, lips and tongue and hands on him sloppy and without much coordination. When he pulls back, his eyes are suspiciously bright. “I love you, so very much.”

Puck’s lips curve into a small smile, and he tugs Kurt against his side. “I love you too.”

 

Tuesday is the slowest day. Puck doesn't have any other words for it, it's just abysmally slow and all he can think about is what they'll be doing twenty-four hours from whatever the time is at that instant. Packing, driving, whatever; he just knows that in the morning, it's going to be the start of almost four full days of just he and Kurt, and no one else, and he didn't know how much he would feel the anticipation.

Finally, finally, he's done with work, and he goes home to shower and change and start to pull out clothes to take, stacking them on his desk. He puts the last of the Hanukkah presents out in the living room and checks his email to kill some time. There's an email from Schue telling them all that the theme for the "New Year!!" is 'Destinations,' which Puck takes to mean the song title or the song or both should mention the name of a city or country or whatever.

Email doesn't take as long as Puck would like, so he heads towards the shop early, stepping into the front office to wait for Kurt. "Hey," the guy passing through nods at him. "You here for Kurt, right?"

"Yeah, I'm early," Puck waves him off. "Just thought I'd sit in here instead."

"I'm Danny," the guy offers his hand.

"Puck," Puck nods, taking his hand and exchanging a firm handshake. "Or, you know, Kurt's lesser half."

Danny chuckles. "Yeah, I've heard about you. Mostly good things," he continues. "I think Kurt's just finishing up with a timing belt, shouldn't be too long."

"Thanks." Puck grins. "I have no idea what that means, though."

"At least you're honest about that," Danny responds with a grin. "You wouldn't believe how many guys come in here and act like they know just what we're talking about, but you can tell they don't have a clue." He shakes his head and then lets out a cry of triumph as he finds something on the desk behind the counter. "Got it! Nice to meet you."

"Same."

Kurt comes into the office about ten minutes later. "Hey, Danny said you were here."

"Thought it was warmer in here," Puck shrugs, and when Kurt steps closer on his way towards the door, Puck puts his arm out, snagging Kurt around the waist. He pulls him close and brings their lips together. "We can't leave now?" he mutters.

Kurt's laugh is a little breathless. "God, we really could, couldn't we? Except for finding a place to stay tonight."

"We could crash in western Indiana or something," Puck suggests, and yeah, he wasn't one hundred percent serious when he suggested it, but god, they _could_ , his mom might be a little tetchy about them missing the last night of Hanukkah but she'd get over it.

"Yeah. Yeah, we could." Kurt bites his lip and steps away. "I'll be right back." He runs back into the garage and leaves Puck standing there almost gaping because holy shit they could get a whole extra night. It's not long before Kurt comes back, absolutely beaming. "Let's go."

"Seriously?" Puck grins.

"Yes!" Kurt grabs Puck's hand and tugs them towards the parking lot. "I have to text Dad when we stop and before bed and before we leave in the morning and all of that, but we can leave! Have you started packing?"

"I grabbed a few things and put them out on my desk," Puck admits. "But that's it."

"Okay, we can go to my house first and I'll finish packing. I have room to spare so we can just put your stuff in with mine, and we'll leave presents at your place. Do we need to leave before your mom gets home?"

Puck laughs. "Yeah, probably." Kurt starts the engine and drives them to the Hudmel house in near-record time, and then Puck just sits on the bed and watches Kurt finish packing. Finn's not home, and Kurt shoots him a quick text as they head out the door with Kurt's luggage in tow.

It doesn't take long for Puck to scoop up his clothes and deposit them in Kurt's suitcase, nor long for them to make sure the proper presents are left behind versus going with them, and they're headed west towards Fort Wayne by 4:45, which Puck thinks is pretty fucking amazing.

After a little bit of discussion and Puck peering at his phone screen, they agree to aim for La Porte to spend the night, which would leave them just an hour or so the next day, and only take about three hours from Lima—so by eight, easy, and seven local time.

Puck spends more time staring at the phone to find potential hotels, and finally finds one that's pretty much on the road they'll be on, plus check-out time isn't until 12 pm. "Ooh, and it has an indoor pool," he adds as they hit the outskirts of Fort Wayne. "Want me to reserve it?"

"I love the internet and iPhones," Kurt says with a content sigh. "Yes, do." When Puck finishes typing in the reservation and sets down his phone at last, Kurt reaches across the console and grabs his hand. "I feel giddy."

"Me too," Puck grins. "I feel like we pulled some con or something."

"I know!" Kurt laughs. "I expected Dad to shut me down immediately but he just protested about driving all night and where would we stay and I pointed out we'd be able to get to western Indiana easily and," Kurt shrugs. "And then I didn't give him a chance to change his mind."

"Probably best," Puck agrees.

The drive isn't exciting, but the fact of it is, and they make good time, pulling into the hotel parking lot before 8. Puck leans against the counter sideways, one arm around Kurt's waist, while Kurt checks them in, and they dump their luggage in the room before going to grab dinner from a Wendy's down the street.

Without discussing it, they don't let themselves linger in the room before dinner, or contemplate anything other than eating in the restaurant. It's back to being only eight o'clock, really, when they park back at the hotel, because of the different time zone, and Kurt stops the Nav and reaches for his phone before they get out.

"I texted Dad when we got here, and he said to text him again when we went to bed." He shrugs. "Somehow I think getting a text at nine pm isn't going to make him happy, but." Kurt grins. "We're going to bed, right?"

"Right," Puck agrees, and they walk to the room in a hurry, locking the door behind them and then staring at each other for a long moment. "Damn, blue eyes," Puck says after a minutes, grinning slowly.

"Yeah." Kurt's lips slowly curl upwards as well. "This _is_ real, right?"

Puck nods and steps closer to Kurt, putting his hands on Kurt's hips and then sliding them beneath Kurt's sweater. "Don't pinch me, 'cause if it's not, I don't wanna wake up."

"Good point." Kurt raises his arms to let Puck pull off his sweater, and Puck tosses it in the vague direction of the luggage before returning his hands to Kurt's chest, skimming Kurt's warm skin with his fingertips. Kurt's hands come up to Puck's shirt, unfastening it and pushing it off Puck's shoulders before forcing Puck's arms up to remove his wifebeater. Both their chests bare, Kurt wraps his arms around Puck's neck and presses them together. "Better."

"Mmmhmm," Puck agrees, his mouth working up Kurt's neck and then behind his ear. Kurt wriggles against him, and Puck grins against his ear. "K. I need."

"I know," Kurt agrees, and then there are hands removing Puck's jeans and underwear, and Puck hurries to remedy the fact that Kurt is still clothed. Puck's not even sure _what_ he needs, beyond his naked body and Kurt's naked body, and when they've both stripped and climbed into the bed, Puck kisses Kurt almost ferociously. Their tongues slip against each other, and Puck thrusts his inside Kurt's mouth, savoring the taste of Kurt on his tongue, and like that, it clicks, and he knows what he needs _first_ , anyway.

He pulls his mouth away from Kurt's and then moves down Kurt's chest until his nose is buried in the dark curls at the base of Kurt's cock, and he spends several long moments paying careful attention to Kurt's balls with his tongue before moving it back to Kurt's erection, placing his tongue on the underside and curling the sides upward as he licks the length of it. Kurt's hands are on his hand, fingers twisting through the hair of his mohawk, tiny sounds dripping from Kurt's lips.

Puck closes his mouth around Kurt and slowly takes him into his mouth, bringing a hand to wrap around the base and stroke as his lips and tongue work. There's a tug on his hair and Puck rolls onto his side, pulling Kurt with him with his free hand, then stills. He moves both hands to Kurt's hips and nudges, just a little, trying to force Kurt's hips to move towards him. There's a moment where Kurt stops moving, and Puck thinks that maybe he's had a stupid idea, but then the grip on his hair tightens and Kurt's hips snap forward, Kurt's cock sliding back further into Puck's mouth, and there's no other word for it, Kurt's fucking his mouth, and all Puck does is lie there with his tongue and his mouth, taking Kurt in over and over.

There are a lot of ways to get fucked, Puck thinks absently, but he loves all of them, loves the heavy drag of Kurt's cock and the friction of it against Puck's lips. He loves the smell of Kurt underneath him and the sound of Kurt's breathing as it grows shallower, and when Puck opens his eyes to peer up at Kurt, Kurt's bright blue eyes are staring back at him, entranced. If Kurt's hips thrust a little faster after that, or Kurt pulls out a few strands of hair, Puck's not going to complain.

Kurt stiffens and hums and that's Puck's few moments of warning before Kurt's spilling into his mouth, messy and hard, and Puck swallows what lands in his mouth, feeling the strands decorating his face until Kurt pulls away and drags him up, licking his face clean. "God, baby," Kurt breathes. "That was… I just…"

Puck buries his face against Kurt's neck, kissing it softly. "Say it."

Kurt's breath hitches, and that's when Puck knows absolutely that Kurt's as turned on by the words and the thought as Puck is. "I fucked your face," Kurt finally whispers, tone full of amazement.

"Yeah, you did," Puck agrees, proudly. "And it was amazing."

Puck can practically hear Kurt grinning. "It was," Kurt murmurs after a moment. " _You're_ so amazing, baby." One hand smooths down Puck's strip of hair and then continues down his spine. "And now I need to take care of you, make you fall apart." Kurt's leg moves a little, just enough to hit Puck's erection and cause him to hiss. "Don't I?"

Puck nods and lets Kurt slip to the side and maneuver Puck's body to his liking. Kurt's smooth hands run along either side of Puck's spine, and Puck has a moment to wonder before Kurt's hands are on his ass and Kurt's tongue is just behind his balls, slowly licking up. "Ohh, yeah," Puck says softly, clutching at the sheets with his hands.

Kurt giggles a little against Puck, and then Kurt's tongue is circling Puck's entrance, soft but not at all tentative. There's not much for Puck to do but just lay there and _feel_ , Kurt's tongue circling several times before the tip presses inside. Puck gasps a little, closing his eyes and focusing on Kurt's hands gently kneading his muscles, and Kurt's breath warm on his skin. Kurt pushes farther inside Puck, and his cheek scraps against Puck's skin, causing Puck to groan a little. He was pretty sure that Kurt hadn't shaved, and he can feel that he's right, but that makes him wonder if Kurt's planning on shaving at all while they're gone and _fuck_ that's hot.

Kurt's tongue is thrusting in and out of Puck now, and Puck is moving his hips against the bed, trying to get some relief for his aching erection. One of Kurt's hands glides around and under Puck, wrapping his fingers around Puck's erection and tugging. It doesn't take long for the double stimulation to bring Puck to orgasm, his body shaking with the force of it. Kurt slowly kisses his way back up Puck's back and pulls Puck into his arms.

"Good, baby?"

Puck just nods, still boneless and satiated. He breaths deeply for a few moments, pressing close to Kurt, before speaking at last. "So good, blue eyes."

"I love doing that to you," Kurt confesses. "Part of my brain says I shouldn't, but I do. And you love it, too, don't you?"

"Yeah," Puck smiles. "I do. It feels so… god, I don't know. So wonderful. And." He brings his hand up to run along Kurt's cheek.

"I didn't bring my shaving stuff at all."

Puck grins. "Yeah?"

"Call it an experiment." Kurt shrugs a little. "One that I happen to know you'll enjoy."

"Yes." They lie together quietly for a long moment before Puck starts a little. "You still have another present to open."

"And so do you." They slowly sit up, and Puck grabs both packages and brings them to the bed. They slide under the sheets, backs against the headboard and Puck can't help but both compare and want. Compare with what they would be doing, even on a Tuesday, and want this, or something like it, instead. Because this is easy and right, and even if they had classes and work, Puck can't help but want this at the end of every day.

Puck pushes the smaller of the two boxes towards Kurt, and Kurt looks puzzled at first as he pulls out the tickets. " _Les Cage…_ ," he trails off, studying them. "For Friday!" He grins. "Do you know anything about this?" he waves the tickets, and Puck shakes his head. "Oooh," Kurt squeals a little. "This'll be so much fun!" He keeps grinning and slides under Puck's arm. "Thank you."

Puck squeezes his arm around Kurt. "I thought you'd like that," he says with a smile.

"You know me well," Kurt nods. "Now open yours. I thought you might need… well." He stops until Puck's pulled off the paper and is about to open the box. "For auditions and stuff." Puck opens the box and grins.

"Not exactly traditional audition attire, I suspect."

"It's a blazer and a shirt," Kurt protests. "But it's still… you. And the t-shirt's a little more casual, but I think you can pull it off."

"Auditioning for badasses?" Puck smirks.

"Exactly."

"Thanks, K." Puck pucks his arm back around Kurt's shoulders and they lean to one side. "Sleep for a little bit?"

"Mmm, yeah," Kurt agrees, and Puck slides them under the covers, placing their gifts in the floor. He flicks the light out, the one near the door still casting shadows, and then they shift and giggle, sliding into place with each other. Puck's eyes close with Kurt's face just inches from his. "Night, baby."

"Night, blue eyes."

Puck wakes up after just a couple of hours, the clock assures him, and he stumbles to the bathroom to take a leak before turning the heat higher. Kurt's curled into a little ball, clearly cold, and Puck rummages through the suitcases in search of Kurt's new throw, which he remembers seeing Kurt pack. He's sure Kurt'll frown at the state Puck leaves the suitcases in, but he finally finds the throw and slides back under the sheets, pulling it over both of them. Kurt starts to uncurl when another thought comes to Puck, and he slips back out of the bed for just a minute before returning.

He wraps his arms back around Kurt, a gleeful voice in the back of his head chanting 'Mine, mine, mine,' and kisses the tip of Kurt's nose gently. Kurt's nose wrinkles and Puck just watches, transfixed, as Kurt slowly wakes up, blinking his eyes and then slowly smiling. "Hi."

"Hey." Puck puts his barely-parted lips to Kurt's, and Kurt takes the invitation eagerly, responding immediately and letting his tongue force Puck's lips farther apart. It's slow and unhurried, and Kurt's hand drops between them to stroke both their cocks to life.

They pull apart equally slowly, foreheads together and lips still almost brushing. "What do you want?" Kurt asks quietly.

"I want you to come inside me," Puck replies, equally quiet. He aches a little with the want of it that's been building since he woke up, and he reaches behind him for the lube, the reason he got out of bed the second time. He pours a little onto his hands and takes Kurt, now fully erect and exquisitely hard, between them. "You make me feel so good, blue eyes." His hands move up and down, coating Kurt as Kurt's hips rock forward a little bit. Puck rolls onto his back, tugging Kurt on top of him, then lifts his legs and looks at Kurt imploringly.

"Oh, baby," Kurt murmurs, and then Kurt's cock is there, nudging slowly inside, stretching Puck out. It burns a little and Puck hisses, tilting his hips at even more of an angle, tugging at Kurt's hips. "Impatient?" Kurt asks, chuckling, and he pushes the rest of the way inside Puck in one fast, hard thrust.

"Oh fuck!" Puck's louder than he means to be. They're not exactly deliberately gentle most of the time, but he's never taken that much of Kurt inside in so little time, and it _burns_ and aches and he wants _more_. "Again."

Kurt's eyes widen just a little, but he complies, pulling out and then slamming back into Puck in one motion, so hard that the bed shakes. "Like that?"

"Yes. Please." Puck's about thirty seconds from turning into a begging, pleading _mess_ , and he knows it. He lets Kurt move his legs, almost bending him in half, and then Kurt's thrusting into him again, and Puck knows somehow that Kurt's not holding back as he pounds into Puck. Puck forces his eyes open, staring at the boy–no, the beautiful _man_ above him, and something inside Puck twists and changes, more than before. He _knew_ Kurt was it, but now he can feel it, over his entire body, and with that he comes, crying Kurt's name over and over, and that must be enough for Kurt, too, as Kurt shudders and then fills Puck completely.

Kurt collapses onto Puck, looking as spent as Puck feels, and Puck pulls the sheets back over them both. "Don't want to move," Kurt mutters into Puck's neck.

"No," Puck agrees. "Not going to."

"Good," Kurt grunts, then pauses. "Messy?"

"Fuck it."

"Yeah. Kay." Another pause, and then Kurt's almost growling. " _Mine_."

"Yours," Puck agrees immediately, and there's a satisfied rumble above him.

"Sleep, baby."

"Mmkay." It's easy to comply with the direction, Kurt's weight on top of him warm and grounding, and Puck closes his eyes with a slight smile on his face.

 

It's pitch black in the room when Puck wakes up, and he blinks as his eyes adjust. The bed beside him is empty, but still warm, and after a moment he can make out Kurt's silhouette in the darkness. "K?"

"I didn't mean to wake you up," Kurt replies softly, and his voice gets closer to Puck.

"S'okay." Puck tilts his head to look at the clock. It's truly the middle of the night. "Come back, though."

"I'm here," Kurt says, and the bed dips as his shadowy figure sits beside Puck. Puck reaches out and runs his hand slowly down Kurt's still-bare chest. Well, that will save them some space and laundry both in the city, if they just stop wearing pajamas.

"Sleepy?"

"Mmm. Not as much as I'd expect." Kurt lies down next to Puck then, chest pressed to Puck's side. "It appears that sleeping with you is good sleep for me."

"Me too." Puck turns his head and kisses the closest part of Kurt, orienting himself until his lips find Kurt's. "There you are," he murmurs, their lips still barely touching.

"Here I am," Kurt whispers, sliding just far enough towards Puck for their lips to meet again. Kurt's hands are cupping Puck's face, holding him gently in place, and Puck runs his hand through Kurt's hair. He slides it down Kurt's back and then on to Kurt's ass, squeezing it gently. Kurt's mouth falls open and he deepens their kiss in response, and Puck repeats the motion, letting one finger trail down near Kurt's entrance.

Kurt's answering buck is enough to tell Puck what he needs to know, and he spares a moment to hope they brought enough lube, because he could definitely get used to this. Puck reaches out with his other hand, and he manages to press a slicked finger into Kurt without too much fumbling or too much time elapsing.

"Yeah, there, baby," Kurt gasps out, pulling away from Puck's mouth. Puck hooks the tip of his finger, moving it slowly, and Kurt's breath hitches as Puck smirks and brushes the same spot again.

The position of their bodies is awkward, but Puck keeps pressing his finger into Kurt, then adds a second one, pushing it in ever so slowly as Kurt wiggles and sighs. "Oh, beautiful. Beautiful Kurt," Puck sighs.

"You can't… even see me," Kurt protests, his hips canting towards Puck's hand.

"Don't have to," Puck answers, adding a third finger and twisting them inside Kurt. "I just know."

"Oh, fuck, yes, right there." Kurt slides fully on top of Puck, and then Puck slowly rolls them over until he's hovering over Kurt, fingers still deep inside Kurt.

"Ready, K?"

"Yes, please," Kurt arches upwards, his body clearly struggling to touch Puck's, and Puck lowers himself over Kurt, brushes them together for just a moment before he pushes into Kurt, slow inch by slow inch. He can feel Kurt relaxing around him slowly, then when he's inside, he can feel Kurt tightening around him again. The utter darkness of the room, except for the three glowing numbers on the clock, means that he still can't see Kurt, beyond as a darker spot in a sea of dark, but he can hear every noise they're making, the slap of their skin meeting, the sibilant almost-hiss each time he slides into Kurt. His hands rest on Kurt's waist, his fingers making tiny circles, and he can imagine how Kurt must look, flushed and hair awry. It's enough to make him thrust a little faster and with a little more force, and Kurt responds by very deliberately tightening around Puck at his deepest.

It's enough, and Puck drives into Kurt a final time as he comes, his yell of Kurt's name even louder in the silence and dark of the night. Kurt answers with a yell of his own, and then Kurt's coating both their chests, and Puck collapses onto Kurt, spent. He nuzzles Kurt's neck and sucks at his collarbone and finally rolls to the side a little, just enough to take most of his weight off Kurt. "Think I can sleep again now," he murmurs, and Kurt gives a sleepy giggle in response. Puck stays awake long enough to hear Kurt's breathing even out, deep and slow, and then he draws the covers a little higher, tucking Kurt's head under his chin and closing his eyes again.

Light is peeking around the windows when Puck rouses again, and he can tell by the shuffling movement next to him that Kurt's starting to wake up as well. Puck feels more well-rested than he has in ages, despite the clock assuring him that it's barely six, local time, and he's pretty sure the sun isn't really up yet. Kurt stretches, the motion bringing him even closer to Puck, and his eyes flutter open. "Oh, good," he whispers. "Wasn't all a dream."

Puck grins. "Nope." He runs a thumb over Kurt's shoulder and down his upper arm. "So we could stay here a little longer, or we could get first dibs on the free breakfast."

"We need food," Kurt answers without much thought. "And we could try out that indoor pool. Then still have plenty of time before noon."

"I like that plan," Puck nods. He's a little surprised when Kurt just puts on the clothes he was wearing the night before, but then, if they go swimming, there's no point in showering or anything first. Once Kurt's sufficiently appeased by the mirror, they walk towards the lobby, the hotel quiet as the sun peeks up. Two hotel employees greet them quietly as they head directly to the coffee before loading up their plates and settling at a table near the quietly crackling fireplace.

"You two stopping here or passing through?" one of the older women stocking the food asks sweetly after a few minutes go by and no one else appears.

"Passing through," Kurt answers her with a slight smile. "We're headed to Chicago this afternoon."

"Staying for New Year's?"

"No, we have to be back home for a friend's party," Puck interjects.

"Well, you drive safe."

"Thank you, ma'am." Kurt takes another sip of his coffee as she returns to her work. "My phone says the first Starbucks we'll encounter is thirty-six minutes down I-80, so enjoy this coffee until then."

Puck laughs. "I guess we really are out away from civilization."

They splash in the pool for awhile before Kurt starts to get cold, and then they sit in the hot tub, Kurt between Puck's legs and Puck's arms wrapped firmly around Kurt's torso. Another guest comes in and her eyes widen a little but she doesn't say anything and actually gives them a small smile before starting to swim laps.

When they're done in the hot tub, they sit on the deck to dry a little, talking quietly, and finally head back to the room. It's still relatively quiet and early, and Kurt waits until they're back in the room to text his dad. Puck shoots his mom a text at the same time, figuring it can't hurt to text her more than she asked, and then they climb in the shower, Kurt shivering a little already.

Puck wraps his arms around Kurt and holds him tight, letting the warm water beat on them, and he doesn't release Kurt until the noticeable shivering has stopped. "Better, blue eyes?"

"Mmmhmm," Kurt nods, still pressed close to Puck. "Thanks."

Puck chuckles. "Trust me, it was my pleasure."

"I can tell that, actually." Kurt grins at him. "Mind if I take care of that for you?"

"Fuck, we're like walking stereotypes."

"For once, I don't really have a problem with that. Do you?"

Puck just shakes his head as Kurt sinks to his knees and takes Puck into his mouth in one motion. Seconds later, there's an insistent finger pressing inside, and Puck has to lean against the wall of the shower and then figure out a way to brace himself. Kurt's mouth is wonderfully warm and his tongue twists and twitches around Puck. "K…" the single letter drags out of Puck's mouth, long and low. "Oh fuck just like that."

Kurt's only answer is a repeat of the same motion with his tongue, followed by a second finger joining the first in slow, careful thrusting. There's an ache from the night before that Kurt's fingers change from dull to immediate with each movement inwards, and Puck rocks his hips and bites his lip, wanting more despite the painful part of the sensation.

"Kurt, Kurt," Puck repeats, his hands gripping at ledge for the soap and the faucet as Kurt increases his speed. Puck's close, so close, when Kurt's other hand closes around the base of Puck's cock and twists once. Puck's hips jerk forward as he comes, still chanting Kurt's name, and it's not until Kurt's standing again that Puck realizes Kurt had come just moments before, his hand only closing on Puck after he'd jerked himself off.

"At least we'll be relaxed travelers," Kurt laughs as he shampoos his hair, and Puck laughs with him.

"Yeah, you could say that."

They make it out of the hotel just before the official check-out time, and Puck thinks to check his messages once they're on 80/90 headed west. "Geez, Mom wrote a fucking book when she texted me back."

"Oh?"

"Thanks for the pitcher, thanks for the serving bowl, Hannah loves her DSi games, you both have a present here, thanks for taking your sister to paint the candlesticks, I gave your sister a gift card to GameStop, will you take her sometime, have fun, drive safe, blah blah blah."

"Goodness." Kurt laughs. "How many messages did that take?"

"A ton, 'cause she typed every single word out." Puck snorts. "Where'd you say that Starbucks was?"

 

They get to Chicago an hour before the official check-in time, but their room is apparently ready anyway, and Kurt makes a comment how rooms are almost _always_ ready before the official check-in time, so why do they bother insisting it is when it is? Puck has no answer for that and shrugs.

It does mean that they have plenty of time to actually unpack before heading over to the Willis Tower or Skydeck or whatever they're calling it. The tallest building in the United States, anyway. The building actually sways a little and they go out on the Ledge thing and have their picture taken and it’s completely ridiculous but also fun. They did manage to time it just right to watch the sunset; they stand arm in arm watching it silently after taking in the view from the other three directions.

Kurt had suggested, and Puck had agreed, that Chicago was a good opportunity to test themselves on public transportation, so they walk to the L station and take it to dinner. Puck’s more than a little intimidated by the menu–he’s not sure what a remoulade is or how mustard can be whole grain. Isn’t whole grain a bread thing? And that’s just the appetizers.

He closes the menu after a moment in defeat. “Yeah, I’m just going to let you order, K.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, surprised, then shrugs at Puck’s nod. “All right.” Kurt does just that, picking out two appetizers and then two entrees with the note that they can share both of the entrees. It’s stuff Puck’s never had before, lamb and duck and pate and goat cheese, and nothing he would have picked out (he had been on the verge of ordering the filet mignon, because the strangest thing with it is a ragout, whatever that is), but it turns out to be _good_. Not just good, but “exquisite” as Kurt says, and there’s probably something dangerous about enjoying food that costs almost $100 by the time they eat dessert, too–a double chocolate cake for Puck and vanilla bean creme brulee for Kurt, though they share those also.

“Hannah’d love that,” Puck remarks as they walk out of the restaurant. “Don’t get me wrong, she loves all those cooking shows and stuff, but that kind of fancy shit? She’d seriously love it.”

“The food or the actual cooking of it?”

“Both,” Puck laughs. “But I meant the actual cooking of it.” It takes them a few minutes to figure out how to hail a taxi and then head back towards the hotel, and another minute or two to figure out paying the cabbie and scrambling out across a back seat, but they’re going to have to figure _that_ out sooner or later, too.

Puck curls his fingers around Kurt’s as they walk into the lobby and out of the cold, pulling Kurt’s back to his chest when they reach the elevator and resting their joined hands on Kurt’s chest. “Good day?” Kurt asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Puck’s head is resting on Kurt’s shoulders. “You?”

“Definitely. I don’t particularly want to go back.”

Puck chuckles. “Me either.”

“We should complete our textual obligations,” Kurt says with a wry twist to his mouth as soon as they get inside the room.

“True.” Puck removes his shoes and socks and stretches out on the bed, phone in hand, and Kurt does the same, though it takes him longer to remove his shoes. “Don’t forget to tell him he can go look at our picture at 103 stories online,” he grins, typing out a quick text to his mom.

“Oh, right,” Kurt nods. “Good grief, Dad must be sitting with his phone in his hand.” He snorts a little. “He wants to know if we ate anything good.”

“Tell him about that goat cheese thing.”

“He’s probably expecting something about pizza.”

“Well, we can eat pizza tomorrow. Or Friday. Or Saturday.”

“True.” Kurt’s thumbs fly over the screen and then he sets the phone down. “There. I told him I’d eat a Chicago dog for him at some point, too.”

Puck laughs. “You’re a thoughtful son.”

“I really am.” Kurt sits back up and his hand starts to rise before he puts it back down. “Come here,” he says, voice quieter.

Puck sits up as well, one shin pressed against Kurt’s outer thigh. “Yeah?”

“Think you could help me out with something?”

“What kind of something?” Puck arches an eyebrow.

“Well. I think I’m wearing too many clothes.”

“Ohh.” Puck nods. “I can see where that might be a problem.” He brings his own hand up and tugs gently at Kurt’s tie. “I’m willing to assist, though.”

“Excellent.”

Puck slowly loosens the knot, then pulls Kurt’s tie free as he brushes their lips together. Kurt’s lips part under his as he slowly unbuttons Kurt’s shirt, glad that Kurt took off both coat and sweater when they reached the room. Their tongues caress each other almost leisurely, and Puck pushes Kurt’s shirt off his shoulders and down his arms before running his hands back up Kurt’s bare arms, savoring the feel of Kurt’s skin under his.

Then Kurt rests his palms flat on Puck’s chest for a moment, using the leverage to deepen their kiss, before his fingers work at the front of Puck’s shirt, and soon they’re both divested of their shirts, white undershirts still remaining. Puck reaches for the hem of Kurt’s, pulling it up and then smoothly off to reveal Kurt’s chest. Puck can’t resist leaning forward and swiping his tongue over one nipple, then biting gently at the other.

Kurt tugs Puck’s wifebeater over his head and then replaces his lips over Puck’s, tweaking one nipple before letting his fingers trail slowly down Puck’s chest to his belt. “We’re still wearing too many clothes,” Kurt comments, toying with the buckle. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You make a convincing argument,” Puck nods, putting his arms around Kurt’s neck. “I think there’s too many lights on, too.”

Kurt frowns. “Good point. But.” He purses his lips. “We’ll have to move.”

“Just for a moment.”

They leave one light on, next to the bed where Puck can reach over and turn it off without any trouble, and while they’re standing up, Kurt divests Puck of his remaining clothing before Puck returns the favor. Then Kurt grabs Puck’s head, kissing him fiercely, his hands tangling in the ‘hawk and tugging on it, angling Puck’s face just how Kurt apparently wants it.

Puck is slowly pushed back until he’s sitting on the very edge of the bed, and then Kurt straddles him, trapping their erections between them. “Want you,” Kurt murmurs into Puck’s ear. “Want you just like this, baby, pushing into me, stretching me out.” His hands are back in Puck’s hair, tangling in it as much as is possible anyway and tugging, and Puck knows what Kurt’s doing but doesn’t mind. He sort of appreciates it, somehow, and he nods his response before initiating another kiss.

One of Kurt’s hands disappears, then reappears, slick, on Puck’s cock, sliding up and down. Kurt raises up on his knees and his hand carefully positions Puck as he moves down excruciatingly slowly. Puck fights the urge to thrust upwards; Kurt doesn’t bottom nearly as often as Puck does, and without any prep, Kurt needs to take it slow. Kurt lets out a little gasp as Puck disappears inside him.

“Oh, yes,” Kurt breathes out a moment later. “Just.” He moves slightly, changing the angle of his body against Puck’s. “There. Oh, baby, baby.” He locks his gaze with Puck’s, mouth slightly open and little puffs of air already giving evidence of how close he is without Puck even moving.

“Beautiful,” Puck says softly, putting his hand on the side of Kurt’s head and watching Kurt lean into the touch. Kurt slowly rises up and then pushes back down, setting a steady rhythm, and Puck’s other arm wraps around Kurt’s waist, holding them together. Kurt’s erection is pressed against Puck’s chest, dragging against it each time Kurt moves upwards, and the liquid leaking from it already is warm on Puck’s skin.

Puck thrusts upward, just a little, and Kurt exhales, closes his eyes, and moves faster, so Puck does it again. Kurt’s rhythm changes as they move together, and then Kurt stiffens and hums and tightens hard around Puck as he comes. Puck thrusts up again, as deep inside Kurt as he can be from that angle, and comes as well, his arms forcing Kurt to stay there, right against him.

They rearrange themselves in the bed, Puck flipping out the light, and Puck pillows his head on Kurt’s upper arm, their legs entwined. “Very good day,” he murmurs after awhile, and Kurt’s lips drop to the top of his head, kissing him softly.

“Yes.” Kurt’s breathing slows and Puck thinks he’s asleep, maybe, before he speaks again. His voice is light, almost a giggle. “Good night, Puck.”

Puck smiles against Kurt’s chest. “Good night, Kurt.”

 

Puck’s confused about what time it is when they get up the next morning. Not really confused, the clock tells them, but being an hour behind what he’s used to _is_ confusing. Breakfast is free again, and they almost amble back up to the room, because the Winter Wonderfest thing is only a mile away and not even open yet, anyway. They end up in the bathroom, looking in the mirror.

“Are you sure?”

Puck sighs and runs his hand over his mohawk, studying his reflection in the mirror. “Yeah. I’m sure, K. It’s time. I just can’t reach the back that well, so?”

“Okay.” Kurt smiles and nips at his ear before sitting down on the toilet lid, clearly planning to observe from that vantage point. “Interesting choice of venue.”

“You’re the one that wanted me to wait until today.” Puck grins. “What was that you said? ‘Oh, you should wait and we can go out to dinner on Wednesday. Wait until Thursday morning!’ I’m pretty sure that was you.”

“So?” Kurt answers primly, crossing his legs and watching Puck pull out his razor and shave gel, and fuck, Puck never bothered to spend the money on an electric shaver or anything. But now he’s thinking that was dumb, because this is gonna take a long time, and he’s gonna need to keep it up.

Maybe time to spend the money.

But that’s not gonna help right now, so he just starts, rinsing the razor more than anything else, slowly making his way back. He stares at himself in the mirror, watching his reflection change, and then he reaches the point where he rinses the razor a final time and hands it to Kurt.

Kurt stands up and turns Puck slightly and continues the careful work, but now Puck can’t see his reflection and he can’t see Kurt either, so he concentrates on the feel of the razor against his skin and the sound of the water as Kurt continues the frequent rinsing.

Then instead of a razor, there’s a warm, wet washcloth moving over his skin, and Kurt steps in front of him at last. “Well?” Puck asks, and he’s not nervous, he tells himself, except he totally is, because as long as Kurt’s okay with it, who really cares what anyone else thinks?

Kurt smiles slowly and then presses his lips to Puck’s, tongue demanding entrance immediately, and Puck’s pretty sure that’s a good response. Then Kurt’s hands are running over his scalp, his entire exposed scalp, and Kurt’s lips are smiling broadly against Puck’s, so Puck’s pretty sure it’s a damn good response.

“Sexy as ever,” Kurt whispers as they pull apart, and Puck finally turns to look at his own reflection. It’s not what he’s gotten used to, but he thinks he’ll be just fine with the guy looking back at him.

He’s glad for the warmth of a hat, though, when they walk back out of the hotel, and after a brief discussion of taxi fare and riding city buses, they just decide to walk, since it’s only about a mile. Puck wraps his arm around Kurt’s shoulders, pulling him close, and Kurt relaxes against him, despite the cold wind.

The day passes faster than Puck would like; there are rides and ice skating and cheesy musical performances all the festival, and they do eat Chicago-style pizza for lunch before heading back towards the festival.

Kurt drags them into the Build-A-Bear with a gleam in his eye, having spotted a “Limited Edition” of the badger or whatever that is Wisconsin’s mascot, so they make a Bucky for Finn, though apparently they aren’t supposed to tell him until he’s gotten word, because it might make him get his hopes up.

It occurs to them around the same time that they should probably at least send Rachel a text wishing her a happy birthday, now that she’s finally seventeen (which is weird, considering both of them are past the halfway mark, well on their way to nineteen).

“Wonder if anyone’s asked Finn where we are?”

“Oh, hmm.” Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m sure Rachel just assumes we’re somewhere around Lima or Dayton or something.”

“Yeah, but we did sort of pull a disappearing act.” Puck grins.

“Yes,” Kurt smirks a little. “We did.”

Kurt suggests they go to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner, because they have plenty of time before the show at Second City, and Puck insists they buy t-shirts, even though Kurt makes a face, probably trying to imagine a time when he needs a plain t-shirt, much less one with _Hard Rock Cafe Chicago_ plastered across it.

The show at Second City is the entire reason they planned to go to Chicago in the first place, and even better than they had anticipated. A little part of Puck can’t help thinking that no one’s given him a suspicious look all day long, and he’d actually gotten used to those looks, expecting him to make trouble.

Considering that he’s been walking around in pretty much constant contact with Kurt, the previous looks can’t be attributed to some kind of gay thing. No, it’s the hair, and it’s pretty weird that he didn’t even register the looks until they were gone. He’s got to admit it’s nice for people not to look at him suspiciously right off the bat, though that didn’t really have anything to do with his decision.

Of course it’s funny or ironic or something that he got rid of the rest of his hair while Kurt’s not shaving at all. It’s not anywhere near an actual beard or anything, just dark scruff that tickles against Puck’s skin when they kiss, and he gazes at Kurt on the ride back to the hotel, wanting Kurt’s mouth everywhere.

“What?” Kurt whispers. “You can’t look at me like that in public.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me forget we’re in public.”

Puck grins. “We won’t be soon.”

Kurt exhales loudly and his gaze flicks to the cab driver. “Is this how it’s going to be next year?”

Puck shrugs. “Maybe. Problem with that?”

Kurt shakes his head quickly. “No. Just.” He shuffles uncomfortably on the seat and bites his lower lip. The cab comes to a stop before he can continue, and Puck observes his almost-awkward walk without comment. Neither of them speak again until the elevator doors close. “You know I already found you... unbelievably sexy,” Kurt begins, voice rushed and low. “But you’re, today, I don’t know. I want to spread you out underneath me and drag my tongue over you and into you until you come, and then I want to thrust into you hard and fill you up.” When Kurt stops, he looks like he can’t believe he just said that, and his pants look as uncomfortably tight as Puck’s feel.

“Okay,” Puck responds after a breathless moment. His mouth feels dry and the walk from the elevator to their room far too long. “I um. I’m good with that.” He leans against the wall as Kurt unlocks the room. “When you figure out what it is about today exactly, let me know so I can keep doing it.”

Kurt’s laugh is low and warm. “Oh, I will.”

Puck stops thinking after that, lost in Kurt’s hands on his scalp and then undressing him, pushing him onto the bed. Kurt does just as he said he wanted to, the scrape of his cheek against Puck’s skin exactly what Puck was craving. He can’t even respond, just lie there and relish what Kurt’s doing.

When they’ve both come, and they’re curled up in each other’s arms, satiated and spent, Kurt starts murmuring in Puck’s ear as Puck drifts to sleep. Puck can’t really discern most of the words, but he can grasp the message. He’s Kurt’s and Kurt’s his and that’s just how it is.

 

“Today,” Kurt proclaims as he opens the curtains on Friday morning, “is a very gay day.”

“Huh?” Puck rubs at his eyes, still waking up.

“Shopping and _La Cage Aux Folles_? And maybe a carriage ride? We’re stereotypes, Puck. Walking, breathing stereotypes.”

Puck laughs. “Okay. I think the kissing and the sex is what’s actually gay, though.”

“Hmm,” Kurt acknowledges, walking back over to the bed and giving Puck a thorough kiss. “You may be right.” He tugs on Puck’s hand. “Let’s go eat breakfast and see about that carriage ride.”

“As you wish.” Puck grins. Kurt’s dressed relatively casually, so Puck assumes they’ll return and change before the show that night. Casual for Kurt still involves a khaki-colored corduroy blazer over a black zippered vest over a lighter khaki turtleneck, or something like it, and black pants tucked into black boots.

Puck pulls on the sweater Kurt bought him and then Kurt hands him a pair of pants that Puck’s never worn. Kurt insisted he buy them one weekend in Dayton, and then insisted Puck pack them. Puck raises an eyebrow, because he’s really not seeing how all this works, but he’ll freely admit that’s not surprising, either.

“You should dress the part,” Kurt says with a quirk of his lips, and Puck snorts but doesn’t argue, pulling them on. “Cons with them, though,” he adds thoughtfully, and when they stand in front of the mirror before leaving the room, Puck has to admit he does look like someone actually put thought into his outfit.

Gay thought, but he’s gay, so whatever. He can’t help but run his hand over his head a little self-consciously as they walk out the door. Puck doesn’t have any regrets about getting rid of the mohawk, even though he thought he might, but he’s still not used to its absence.

The carriage ride, they decide, was a dumb idea. Not so much because of the cheesy factor (though there’s that), but because it’s _cold_ and no tour of an area is worth the cold. After that, though, Kurt descends on the Magnificent Mile, and really, Puck has to be impressed by Kurt’s restraint that he waited until Friday to start shopping.

He’s not surprised when they head to lunch (at an Indian place, which is also really good, and Puck thinks they’re going to have to stop expanding their palates or whatever, because it’s another seven or eight months of Lima cuisine still) that Kurt’s carrying around two ties, a hat, and a sweater, but he is surprised that Kurt managed to talk him into a pair of jeans that yeah, he probably doesn’t need. He doesn’t, strictly speaking, _need_ the look on Kurt’s face when he tried them on, either, but it was enough to convince him to buy them.

“I only want to look a few more places, and then we should go get a snack at the Ghirardelli store.” Kurt pauses, sipping his water. “And maybe we should go back and take advantage of that indoor pool and hot tub and everything, before the show tonight.”

“There’s a store with a bunch of Bears stuff,” Puck points out, and Kurt grins.

“All right, we’ll go there, too.”

They’re walking down the street after getting dessert at the Ghirardelli store when Kurt’s phone starts playing “Dance in the Dark.” Kurt pulls it out and answers it, hitting speaker at the same time. “Hi, Finn.”

“Hey, how’s Chi-town?” Finn’s voice is a strange mix of upbeat and melancholy.

“Cold and enriched by our tourist dollars,” Kurt responds. “Lima?”

“It’s been, uh, _interesting_ ,” Finn says, half-choking on the last word. “Hey, um. Kurt? Did you maybe...I dunno, take Rachel shopping?”

Kurt smirks, looking at Puck. “Whatever do you mean, brother dear?”

“Ok, yeah, so I’ll take that as a yes and we will never speak of this again.”

Puck looks quizzically at Kurt, who makes some kind of gesture that means he’ll tell Puck later. “Wise decision,” Kurt agrees, voice carefully flat. “Anyone ask where we are?”

“Rachel kinda sorta asked,” Finn laughs. “You know how she is. Doesn’t come right out and say ‘where are they?’ but it’s all, ‘oh, Noah and Kurt sure have been absent quite a bit over the holiday, haven’t they?’” His imitation of Rachel’s clipped tone is scarily accurate.

“Probably the near-simultaneous happy birthday texts didn’t help,” Puck interjects.

“Oh! Puck! Hey, man, how’s Chicago?”

“Still cold. Hey, you can go online and look at us standing 103 stories above the ground.”

“Uh. Sure. Yeah, I’ll definitely do that,” Finn says. He’s not going to do it. Puck can tell.

“I didn’t say _you_ had to be 103 stories above the ground, dude,” Puck snorts as they come to stop in front of another store and take up residence on the bench in front of it.

“My imagination is too good, I guess. Did you eat Chicago dogs yet? Or pizza?”

“Pizza yesterday,” Puck answers. “And we had... what was that stuff again? Wednesday night?”

“Pâté? Or the goat cheese?”

“What? You guys are eating goat cheese when there’s _Chicago dogs_ to be had?” They can almost hear Finn shaking his head. “Wow, you guys are really, I mean I hate to even say it, dudes.”

Kurt’s suppressing a laugh but Puck’s not sure what Finn’s talking about. “Huh?”

“Gay, dude. I mean, I had my suspicions, what with the, well, _stuff_ I keep overhearing and, you know, but...seriously, the goat cheese clinches it.”

“The cheese clinches it,” Puck repeats slowly. “Okay, dude. Whatever you say.”

“Kurt knows I’m right. Don’t you, big brother?”

“I plead the fifth,” Kurt says after a moment of trying not to laugh. “There was also lamb and duck.”

“Not sounding any less gay, man,” Finn points out. “Anyway, are you guys still gonna be back in time for Santana’s thing? ‘Cause I’m a good coverer-upper and all, but I don’t know that I can come up with something to explain your despicable absences.”

“Despicable? I didn’t know it was that bad of us,” Kurt laughs. “Yes, the plan is to be back in time. I’ll text you in the morning.”

“Ok. You guys travel safe. Bring me back something. Probably not a Chicago dog, though. I don’t think that’d travel well.”

“No, probably not,” Puck agrees.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Kurt nods. “Bye, Finn.”

“Bye, Pancake.”

Kurt snorts again as the call ends. “Now I’m a breakfast dish of dubious nutritional value.”

“Someone has to lie on the plate looking pretty,” Puck says without batting an eye.

 

Puck had managed not to let Kurt see he was packing clothes to wear to a show, because that would have been a dead giveaway before Kurt ever opened the tickets, but it’s sheer coincidence that the blazer Kurt gave him will work with what he brought. Kurt takes over the bathroom after they shower, and Puck’s long dressed when Kurt emerges.

“Oh!” Kurt’s exclamation startles Puck out of his contemplation of the skyline, and he turns to find Kurt staring at him. “Very nice,” he says after a moment.

“I clean up all right,” Puck grins.

“Yes, yes you do,” Kurt agrees, needlessly adjusting Puck’s collar. “You’re even wearing a tie.” Kurt runs his hand down the silver fabric, then leans forward and gives him a brief kiss.

“I figured I couldn’t go wrong with black, right?” Puck shrugs. Black shirt, black pants, black socks, black shoes, black belt, and he’d figured the silver tie would have to be enough, but then Kurt went and gave him the blazer, so he’s very properly attired.

“I like it very much,” Kurt assures him.

“You look good too, blue eyes,” Puck says, letting his eyes travel over Kurt again. He’s wearing some kind of navy and grey two-tone blazer and navy pants with a navy shirt and a grey tie. All of it fits Kurt well, almost skin-tight, but when they stop outside the theatre and ask someone to take their picture, Puck realizes that he’s not really got any room to talk.

Once they’re seated, Kurt pulls up a synopsis of the musical on his phone and has Puck read it, and that’s when Puck finally understands just exactly what Kurt meant that morning. The show’s hilarious, though, and when he’s not watching or laughing, he’s watching Kurt, whose face is open and relaxed, his eyes shining. Something uncomfortable twists in Puck, and he nearly has to run out of the theatre before he suppresses it, pushing it down ruthlessly.

He ignores it all the way back to the hotel, and he manages to forget it while they make the most of their last night there, but once Kurt’s asleep, head on Puck’s chest, it bubbles back up, and he can’t ignore it.

 _They have to go back._

All Puck had thought about when it came to Chicago was about getting away and taking a break. They had talked about how great it was going to be, and how many days and nights they’d have (and then they ended up with an extra night), but Puck hadn’t let himself think about having to go back.

He almost can’t bear the thought of how Kurt’s face will shutter again, the little lines of tension that are present almost all the time, the work of pretending that other people’s looks and thoughts don’t matter.

And himself. _Fuck._ He has to go back into that stupid closet, because he feels like it’s the only thing protecting Kurt, protecting them. Maybe Puck’s irrational and it’s not necessary or anything but it feels like it is. It feels suffocating, too, and Puck rests his cheek against Kurt’s hair, not knowing how he’s going to handle the next evening.

 

“Checkout is at noon,” Kurt points out over breakfast the next morning. “So we have three hours. And we can eat lunch–we still need to get our Chicago dogs–and, I don’t know.”

“It’s going to be five hours, even if we just stop to piss and go through drive-through for dinner.”

“Aim for seven-thirty at your place, eight or eight-thirty at mine?”

“Yeah, so we can stay here until two-thirty or so. Our time. Three-thirty their time.”

“Let me text Finn and tell him I’ll drive if he’s willing to wait.”

“Yeah. Don’t forget you’ll need time to shave,” Puck points out, running his hand over Kurt’s cheek.

“Right.” Kurt fires off a text and exhales shakily. “We’ll be in New York in two months.”

Puck laughs, because it’s really the only option. “We’re fucked.”


	5. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles Brown is a real charming asshole. Rick is on sister-meeting probation until March

Miles is pretty sure he’s had enough gingerbread and Mariah Carey to last the entire year. Enough Mariah Carey to last a lifetime, actually, but Alicia has had the same ten damn tracks on a loop since before school let out. Thankfully their dad told her she had to stop playing the album on New Year’s Eve.

“Miles?”

Miles sighs and drops the Xbox controller, pausing BioShock. “Yeah, Ma?”

“Can you come help me put these garlands away?”

“Ma, I tell you every year, we should just buy real ones. Then we wouldn’t have to store them. You’re the one all the time reading that book about having less stuff.”

“Shush. You just don’t like rolling them up.”

“Nope,” Miles admits, frank. “You’re going to start buying real ones in two years, aren’t you?” he continues, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Of course not.” The reply is too quick and Miles shakes his head.

“Fine, then I’m not shelling out for the private room at the assisted living apartment building.”

“Of course you won’t,” Celeste agrees, shaking her head mock-sadly. “I would expect no different from you. And my favorite son!” She sniffs.

“Your _only_ son, you mean,” Miles cracks, grinning.

“Details.” She waves dismissively. “I’m kicking you out this afternoon.”

“Kicking me out?” Miles snorts. “Usually you wait until _after_ semester grades to threaten that.”

“Oh, just temporarily,” she assures him with a smirk. “I’m just sick of hearing that PsychoShock game.”

Miles rolls his eyes. “You _know_ it’s called BioShock.”

“Go find out if there’s a sequel. Watch a movie. _Something_.” She shudders dramatically. “Go ice skating on the reservoir.”

“You always told me that the ice wasn’t thick enough for skating, that I could fall in,” Miles points out.

“Oh, so you could.” She shrugs blithely. “Just wait until after five to call if you do, okay?”

“Ohh, I get it.” Miles shakes his head. “That’s why you dropped Alicia off at Rinky Dinks, isn’t it? Tsk, tsk. All right, I get you, Ma. You go get your freak on with Dad.”

“Thank you,” Celeste says grandiosely, bowing slightly. “There’s a twenty under your keys for gas.”

“Sweet!” Miles grins. “Thanks, Ma.” He starts towards the door, grabbing his phone, then stops. “You know, thirty bucks would keep me out for dinner.”

His mom rolls her eyes. “Fine. There’s another twenty in my wallet; pick your sister up at seven.”

“Can’t I leave her there overnight?”

“No. I think there’s something weird about the food there. Especially the nachos.”

“Fine, fine.” Miles collects the two twenties and his keys and heads out the door. “Later, Ma!” Once he’s outside, he scrambles quickly into his car and cranks the engine, turning the heat on high. Then he pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts once before making a decision.

“Rick! My man! What are you doing?”

“Pissing around,” Rick sighs. “Nothing to do around here, but at least it’s not Kentucky, I guess.”

“Damn, yeah, do you have to get presents for the horses, in Kentucky?”

“Ha ha, you’re just so damn funny,” Rick says. “They don’t even have horses. Well, my aunt and uncle do, but we were at my grandparents’.”

“I am fucking _hilarious_ , Rick. Listen up. I’m comin’ to pick you up, my Ma kicked me out so she and Dad could make sweet sweet love.”

“Aw, dude, why you gotta tell me shit like that?”

“If I have to live with that image, everyone should,” Miles grins as he speaks into the phone. “Be ready in ten minutes, man.”

“Not a problem. Not like I’ve gotta get fancy or anything,” Rick snorts. “Unless there’s gonna be girls.”

“Rick, even if you get fancy, you think you’re going to get girls when I’m next to you?”

“Shut up, Brown. The ladies love me. I’ve got great manners.”

“ _Manners_.” Miles laughs. “Whatever you say, Rick. Peace out!” With that, Miles roars out of his driveway and heads towards Rick’s house. Manners. Pfft.

Miles pulls up in front of Rick’s house and leans on the horn for three seconds before letting up. When fifteen seconds pass, he leans on it again. Rick comes lolly-gagging out of his house like his sweet time is his own. Miles shakes his head and presses the horn again. Rick flips him off in response, grinning.

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” Rick says, opening the passenger door.

“It’s part of my charm,” Miles assures him. “Leaves ‘em falling at my feet.”

“You’re a real charming asshole,” Rick agrees. He climbs in and clicks the seatbelt. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“J’s sound good? We can get wings and beer and play pool.” Miles shakes his head. “Just don’t play pool with Susie. She’s a hustler.”

“Susie? She cute?”

Miles laughs. “Man, she’s like forty-five and looks fifty. Chain smoker and probably a fan of the tanning bed in her day. But if that’s your thing, I’m not gonna stop you.”

“Pass.”

“Your loss. Or, well, maybe hers, I don’t know.” Miles snickers. “You think you could show ol’ Susie a good time, Rick? Remind her of her glory days with the hot young football studs?”

“Brown, that’s just nasty,” Rick says, with an overly-dramatic shudder.

“It could be a bit hazardous,” Miles acknowledges. “For her,” he adds, smirking.

“I’m a gentleman,” Rick responds, looking offended. “Just think I’ll stick with ladies my age, is all.”

“A gentleman, huh? A’right. If you say so.”

“Given the opportunity, I’d be a total gentleman.”

Miles laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I thought so.”

“Car doors and all that shit. Pull the chair out for her.” Rick looks almost dreamy-eyed over the idea. “I’d treat her right. You know, given the opportunity.”

“Flowers, man. Don’t forget they like flowers, too.”

“Yeah. Flowers. I’d totally buy her flowers.”

“Yeah, you just go by Brown’s to get ‘em.”

“I don’t know, Brown,” Rick scoff. “I’m talking about a _quality_ girl here. She needs quality flowers.”

“Ohh!” Miles crows. “Now you’re bringing it!”

“Hey, if I wanted to buy flowers for my horse, I’d definitely come to Brown’s.”

“We’ll make you a fucking flower blanket, just like the fancy Derby horses get.”

“Nice. You can make one for my girlfriend, too, once I get one,” Rick nods.

“So I’ve got, what, _years_ to worry about that?” Miles laughs as he parks at J’s. “C’mon, let’s see if the bartender still believes my ID is real.”

“Shame all that luck and suaveness are wasted on such an asshole,” Rick says, shaking his head.

“I told you, Rick, it’s part of the charm.”

 

“Tough luck,” Miles says with a shake of his head as they leave, several hours later. “No beer, and I won the last wing off you.”

“I seem to recall mentioning once or twice how you’re an asshole,” Rick grumbles. “Here I thought I’d upgraded friends.”

“I’m a _nice_ asshole. I won that wing fair and square.”

“Yeah, and now you’re bragging about it.”

“It was a recap. Bragging’s a harsh, harsh word.”

“Well, you were right about Susie, anyway,” Rick says, shaking his head. “Scary. Looks like she sprays that tanning shit on on _top_ of the tanning bed tan.”

Miles guffaws. “Good one, Rick!” He shakes his head. “Ladies and gentleman, he can be taught! All right, I gotta ditch you so I can go get my sister.”

“Why can’t I come with you to get your sister? It’s still hours until curfew.”

“You think I’m gonna let a punk like you meet my sister?” Miles asks, incredulous. “What kind of brother do you think I am?”

“Hey, I said I’d be a gentleman,” Rick protests. “I’d get her one of them horse blankets of flowers, pull out her chair. She look like you or is she actually good looking?”

“Oohh, burn!” Miles laughs. “Now I definitely ain’t introducing you, if you don’t already recognize the beauty and brilliance that is my sister.”

“I just try to keep my head down, okay? It’s been a rough enough year as it is without mixing it up with freshman girls,” Rick says. “Freshgirls? Freshwomens? Hell, I don’t know.”

Miles grins and shakes his head. “Fresh _ladies_.”

“Sure. We can go with that. C’mon, Brown, lemme meet your freshlady sister!”

“No. No way,” Miles repeats, shaking his head, grinning a little. “I’ll put you on, like, probation. If I still like you in March, you can meet her.”

“Why March?”

“Sounds really far away. Without being mean.”

“Fine,” Rick says. “Best behavior and all of that, then you’ll introduce me to the, what was it? Beauty and brilliance that is your sister?”

“You’re learning already!”

“Yeah, well. I’m real smart.”


	6. Substitute Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor, bored, lonely Finn. With Puck and Kurt in Chicago, he thinks he might be going through...GAY WITHDRAWAL.

Finn gets a wild hair that maybe he should call and check on Karofsky, because he hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk to him after the PFLAG meeting. He scrolls through his contacts and dials.

“’Lo?” Karofsky answers in the middle of the second ring.

“Yo, Karofsky,” Finn says. “What’s up with you this break?”

“Oh, y’know.” He snorts. “Trying not to freak out while we wait to hear from any colleges.”

“Dude, don’t even talk about it!” Finn moans. “I feel like I’m gonna have a stroke waiting, and then I’ll come back to school and my whole left side’ll be dragging, and everybody’ll be all, hey Finn, what the hell happened, dude? And I’ll be all, stroke,” Finn finishes, very matter-of-factly.

Karofsky guffaws.

“But anyway,” Finn plows right along. “Everything cool with you? That was sort of a dramatic end to the first semester.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Karofsky responds almost off-handedly. “It’s been nice to have a break from school, though. Dad and I went up to Cleveland for a couple days, saw the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame finally. Came back through Canton.”

“Awesome, you hit the Pro Football Hall of Fame?”

“Yeah, that was pretty awesome. They have some really cool old stuff there. I can’t believe I’d never made it over there before.”

“How’s the renovation thingy coming? Burt and I went out there in October for the Browns Backers event and it was kind of a mess,” Finn says.

“Yeah, it’s still a huge mess,” Karofsky chuckles for a minute. “Muddy ice everywhere. I guess it’ll be nice when it’s done, though.”

“I guess,” Finn agrees. “What are you doing this afternoon? I’m bored as _hell_ man.”

“TweedleMohawk and TweedlePompadour get bored with you?”

Finn snorts a laugh. “Naw,” he says, evasively. “They’re just, I dunno. Not around today or whatever.”

“Yeah, I’m always misplacing people,” Karofsky laughs. “Nah, I’m not doing anything. What’d you have in mind?”

“Was thinking about heading over to Westgate to shoot some pool. You interested?”

“Yeah, sounds cool. Meet there?”

“Sounds like a plan, dude,” Finn says, and they both hang up the phone with out saying anything else, ‘cause that’s just how dudes do it. It’s not until Finn’s halfway to Westgate Lanes that he realizes that it’s possible he called Karofsky because he might be going through gay withdrawal or something.

Seriously, it’s the longest he’s been away from Kurt and Puck since the Wisconsin trip, and when he was in Madison, he was too busy to miss anybody. All he has to do now is putter around and be bored and think about how it’s going to be next year, when everybody in the whole world who matters to him (except mom and Burt) has gone off to New York and abandoned him. It’s really depressing, and for once, Finn doesn’t have anything pressing to fill up his time and distract him.

Finn already feels lonely. Next year could potentially suck.


	7. Birthday Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel has a birthday. The reappearance of the _other_ little pink bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: IMPLIED HET SMUT OMG! ;)

Finn is starting to feel like he’s spent his entire winter break standing on Rachel’s porch holding packages, but this is the only time he’s actually felt nervous about it. Hanukkah, while confusing and full of weird foods and weirder songs, didn’t give him that strange fluttery feeling in his stomach. He passes the tiny box from hand and hand and shuffles his feet, waiting for someone to answer the door.

Rachel flings open the door with a wide smile. “Hi Finn!”

“Happy birthday!” Finn answers, and sweeps her up into a kiss before Mr. Leroy or Mr. Hiram can show up and ruin it for him. “Do you feel really old?”

“Horribly!” Rachel laughs. “A whole seventeen, what will I do with that?”

“You might want to start using some of Kurt’s face goop,” Finn suggest, trying to keep a straight face. “I think I already see some wrinkles.” He runs his fingertip along the soft skin around Rachel’s eye. “Yep, right there. Look at all of ‘em!”

“Oh, you,” Rachel giggles and bats his hand away. “If I need to, then you’d better buy stock, old man!”

“Nah, it doesn’t work like that for men,” Finn says, and he’s right, because that’s why all those old dudes like Brad Pitt and Robert Downey, Jr. always get to date hot young chicks in movies. “We don’t get old. We get, like, dignified or whatever.” He dramatically brushes at the hair above his temples. “Don’t you think I’d look all kinds of dignified with some silver in there?”

Rachel keeps giggling. “Dignified? I guess something has to make men that way, and if hair gives the illusion!”

“Hey, don’t ruin it for me!” Finn says, bumping her with his hip...gently, because one time he did that and sent her flying, so now he’s very careful. “It might be my only chance for dignity.”

She schools her face into a solemn expression and nods. “I suppose that could be true.” Then she smiles impishly and walks towards her bedroom, gesturing for Finn to follow her. Even though Finn is positive that Mr. Leroy might inflict some bodily harm on him if he found out Finn was in Rachel’s bedroom without one of her dads home, he’s not about to complain. Rachel, good. Bedroom, good.

The overhead light isn’t on, and Rachel doesn’t touch the switch. Her lamp is on, though, and the pale winter sunlight filters through the windows. She gestures for Finn to go ahead of her and shuts the door behind them with a loud click. Finn thinks she might have already trained some kid of dog-response into him, because when that door closes, he gets all excited. The last time she closed a door behind her, there was boob, so this might be awesome.

“Oh, I forgot to take your coat,” Rachel says suddenly, almost nervously. “Just throw it on my desk chair?”

“Sure!” Finn says, whipping off his coat and chucking it in the vague direction of Rachel’s desk chair, without actually taking his eyes off of Rachel.

“I, um.” She lowers her lashes for a moment, a small smile on her face. “I have a present for you.”

Finn feels his eyebrows squinching together suddenly, because he’s just that confused. “Uh, but it’s your birthday. I’m supposed to give _you_ a present.” He holds up the small package he’s still holding, even after removing and flinging his jacket.

“I know,” Rachel says simply, with a small shrug. “I still have a present for you.” She pauses. “After I open that.”

Finn extends his arm awkwardly. He’s really not sure what’s going here, and honestly, now he’s kinda afraid to move from where he is, just in case it means no boobs. “Here. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you!” She scoops up the package and opens it with enthusiasm. “Oh, Finn! I love it!” She holds the bracelet up, admiring the star charm. “Oh! And it has an ‘r’ on it, too!”

“Yeah, the ‘r’ is for Rachel,” Finn explains, then feels stupid. “But you probably figured that out.”

“It’s beautiful.” She steps towards him and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Um. Wait right here?” Without giving Finn a chance to answer, she wheels around and disappears into her bathroom.

“Rach, where—?” Finn’s left standing there staring at the bathroom door, too confused by what’s happening or supposed to happen to do anything but keep standing.

“Just a second!” she calls through the door. “Just, um. Sit on the bed?”

“Ok?” Finn answers and sits stiffly on the edge of her bed. This night is officially weird.

After another minute passes, the bathroom door opens and Rachel appears, framed by the doorway. Her cheeks are bright pink and she looks like she’s fighting the instinct to cover herself with her arms, and Finn realizes that’s because she’s wearing some kind of soft pink lingerie thing. She looks like one of the Victoria Secret underwear models and all Finn can says is, “Holy shit!”

“Do you like it?” Rachel asks, uncertainty in her tone.

It takes Finn a moment to recover and he realizes he still hasn’t answered her out loud when he sees her face fall, so he quickly says, “It’s kinda hard to see from way over here.” That sounds like a good answer.

Rachel grins a little and steps closer, still not quite meeting his eyes. “Better?”

“I _am_ getting old,” Finn says. “Eyesight isn’t what it used to be.”

“Maybe you should use, um.” Rachel’s face flames bright red. “Another sense.”

“I can’t smell you from way over here, either,” Finn says. “But I bet you smell really nice. You oughta come over here so I can check.”

She does just that, stopping just in front of him and gingerly tracing her fingertips over Finn’s collar. Finn leans forward and makes a big show of sniffing along her neck and shoulder without actually touching her.

“Yeah, you definitely smell good, but it’s still hard to get a good look at that outfit,” he says, biting his lip a little to keep from grinning like an idiot. “Any ideas about how I could get a better view?”

Rachel nods just once, and then plops herself into Finn’s lap with a pleased look on her face. “Better?”

“Yes,” Finn says, only it’s less like a word and more like he’s exhaling loudly and it’s sort of word-shaped. “Much better.”

Rachel giggles and slides her hand under Finn’s shirt. “Why don’t you show me?”

“Yes,” Finn repeats. “Yes, that is an awesome plan,” he says, wrapping his hands around her waist. She shifts on his lap, and he wonders if _that’s_ the kind of “show me” she was talking about.

“Just one rule,” she adds. “My panties stay on.”

“That’s the only rule?” Finn gasps. “I can live with it.”


	8. Nine Days Out of Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, there are no eighteen year old boys at the Hudmel house.

When Burt comes downstairs, he can smell Italian food cooking, including what he hopes is garlic bread, and Carole’s lighting a couple of candles that are standing on a nice tablecloth. She looks up and grins at him.

“Something in here smells good,” Burt says, leaning on the doorway and admiring Carole. He sure did marry a nice-looking woman.

“How many nights do we get without either of the boys?” Carole points out, still smiling.

“I’m starting to think not enough,” Burt says, coming over to Carole and leaning over to give her a kiss.

“So you won’t mind if I confiscate your phone for the next few hours, good,” Carole continues, turning to pull something from the oven.

“Not at all. Turn the ringer off. Lock the doors.” Burt grins. “Can we disconnect the bell?”

“No,” Carole replies calmly, rolling her eyes slightly. “You and I both know that hardly anyone ever knocks here.”

“Still, we should put up a sign. Maybe we’ll put up a sign in here, too, for me to read,” Burt says. “Do not disturb with worrying about what your kid’s up to in Chicago with his boyfriend.”

Carole laughs. “I think Kurt will manage not to eat too much pizza, Burt.”

“I’d feel better if I thought eating pizza was all they were doing,” Burt points out.

“I think tonight they were headed to a show or something, right?” Carole puts a platter on the table and pulls out her chair.

“That French-sounding one, I think,” Burt says, opening the bottle of red wine Carole set on the table and pouring them each a glass.

“Finn will be out for a few hours, so we should enjoy it.” Carole takes a sip of her wine and serves them both. Burt starts eating before Carole barely even has the serving spoon out from under his serving of eggplant parmesan.

“This is incredible,” he says. “New recipe?”

“It is!” Carole beams. “Susan gave it to me the other night.”

“At your girl-party?”

“ _Girls’ night out_ , Burt,” Carole corrects him, “and yes, it was Tuesday night.”

“Whatever you call it, I’m sure there’s ladychat involved,” Burt says, proud of himself for invoking one of Kurt’s terms. “But enough about the girls. It’s just you and me tonight.”

“So it is,” Carole says warmly, taking a bite of her own meal. “We could put a chair under the door just in case Finn comes back early.”

“Oh yeah?” Burt raises an eyebrow. “There something we need to keep him out for?”

“Oh, well.” Carole sips at her wine. “If you just wanted to catch some reruns, I suppose you could do that.”

“That what you in the mood for tonight?”

“I had a different kind of entertainment in mind, really.”

“What a coincidence!” Burt waggles his eyebrows at Carole across the table, and she swats at him with a laugh. “I had a different kind in mind, too.”

“Coincidence, or you’re just good at picking up on hints?”

“Or wishful thinking?”

“Don’t you have the same thoughts every day?” Carole giggles.

“Well, not _every_ day. I’m not eighteen any more! Just, you know, most days. Nine days out of ten,” Burt says, with a wink.

“Oh, you!” Carole continues laughing, shaking her head. “Will it get down to eight out of ten by retirement?”

“Eight and a half.”

“As long as the half is at night, I suppose.”

“I’d be okay with you keeping me up half the night,” Burt grins.

“I’m sure you would!” Carole takes another drink of her wine, returning the grin. “I’m sure the boys would be mortified, though.”

“Hey, turnabout and all that. Give _them_ something to not wanna think about for once.”

“I’ll let you explain that one to them.”

“Hmm. I think I’ll let them figure it out on their own. They’re smart boys.” Burt puts his fork down on his empty plate. “So, you make any fancy dessert to go with this amazing dinner?”

“I thought we’d investigate the possibility of dessert after your surprise.”

“There’s a surprise?”

“There might be.” Carole’s smile turns a little coy and she finishes her glass of wine.

“The surprise...didn’t happen to have been one of your Christmas presents, did it?”

“If I told you, would it still be a surprise?”

“How about... _show_ and tell?” Burt suggests.

“Do we really need the ‘tell’ part of the equation?”


End file.
